The Long Way Around
by alexajaye
Summary: Slight Catching Fire AU. Mockingjay AU. "Where's Peeta?" Plutarch looks at Haymitch, and they're both silent, forcing me to think the worst. Peeta is gone, and I am alone. Haymitch has broken his word to me, and he deserves to pay for it. He's about to speak when another door slides open, allowing in two occupants. Peeta and Johanna weren't taken, and that's just the beginning.
1. Plight

_**Welcome to my new AU Hunger Games story. Yes, you read that right. I'm re-writing Mockingjay. The two most major changes made in this chapter will be Johanna and Peeta. There will be more.**_

_**This isn't my first Hunger Games story, but hopefully, it won't be the last. It's been so long since I did this. I'm rusty!**_

_**I don't own THG. The lovely and torturous Suzanne Collins has that honor. I'm simply creating a new world where things will be very different.**_

_**I'm also human, and though I have a beta of sorts, we might have missed something. That's on me.**_

_**Read on and enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Plight**_

I wake with a start not knowing where I am, but my eyes immediately find the inside of a hovercraft passenger bay. My body senses swift movement and turbulence that feels like the craft is shuddering and struggling to stay aloft. Scanning the space around me, my first familiar sight is Beetee as he lays over the floor of the bay with me. We are both in our arena uniforms, both tattered from the long three days inside it, both alive. He looks to be a little more so than me, shaking and muttering. I remember last seeing him on the jungle floor next to the lightning tree as he attempted to punch a hole in a chink of the arena's force field.

But he is alive. And my very next concern is the only thing I can wrap my mind around. Where's Peeta?

Why are we in a hovercraft to begin with? Have we been captured? Surely we would be in restraints at the least. There would be guards. We would not be left unattended. My memory doesn't have a plausible reason for this situation, but the bandage on my arm and the IV along with it means that someone had been tending to my wounds. Whoever they are, they must know where Peeta is. And I will find them.

Taking out the IV isn't difficult, but it is a little painful. The hovercraft shudders again, and I struggle to get to my feet, then making my way to the door that leads to where I know there are usually guards. The same guards probably attacked Cinna, carried him off to destinations unknown, and he is probably dead now. I notice an open medical kit with bandages, swabs and syringes, slipping my hand inside for one of the larger syringes. If there is anyone behind this door, I at least want to get a good jab at them before they take me down.

Then I hear a familiar voice.

"She's not going to be happy when she finds out what we've done." I know this voice. This voice belongs to the one person who probably knows me better than anyone. But it isn't the voice I want to hear right now. It just makes me angrier.

"She'll still cooperate though," another voice says, overly confident, and while this voice is less familiar, I recognize it still.

"After the way we've deceived her, there's no guarantee."

A third voice rings out, albeit hoarse and desperate. "Just tell her the truth."

The door finally opens in front of me, revealing the three occupants of the control room. My eyes land on Plutarch first, followed by Finnick and finally Haymitch as he grins at me like he's happy to see me. I am not happy to see him.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says nonchalantly.

In two seconds, I know two things. One is that he is working with a Gamemaker against others he once called his friends. Two is that he is looking at me like he knows I'm not happy with him. And he is right.

When I lunge forward and make an attempt to stab at him, he's ready. He grabs me immediately, and in the struggle, he's able to disarm me.

"What are you doing with them?" I shriek, livid, seething, trying to gouge his eyes out because he deserves it.

Instead of answering me, he continues to antagonize me. "So it's you," he says calmly, "and a syringe against the Capitol. See, this is why no one lets you make the plans."

My eyes land on Finnick again as he watches with an expression that is distraught but determined, and I demand the same thing of him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I shout.

His expression cracks, either by me struggling or something under the surface that I can't see and don't really care about, and he sighs a little too softly. "Stop," he pleads. "Stop. Just listen . . ."

"We couldn't tell you," Haymitch says still restraining me, obviously not trusting me yet. "With Snow watching you, it was too risky. Better for you to know nothing."

Frustrated, angry and fed up with him, I shove him away, looking from him to Finnick and then Plutarch. I don't care about that. I only care about one thing. "Where's Peeta?" I demand.

Finally, Plutarch speaks up, taking control of the room. "Katniss, listen, there are a few things you need to know before that. You have been our mission from the beginning. Our plan was always to get you out. Half the tributes were in on it. They were willing to give their lives for you, because you are the Mockingjay." He pauses, making sure I'm listening and then moving forward slowly, carefully. "I'm sure you remember everything that's happened the last six months. The uprising in the districts, the need for you to appease them. That is because there is a revolution in our country, and we are on the front lines of that revolution. Now this part of our plan _was_ to get you to District 13, but there has been a slight complication."

Nothing he's saying is making sense. A revolution? For what? The last rebellion ended in the creation of the Hunger Games. A second on can only end in our total annihilation. But he is so sincere and looks so serious. I decide he can only be telling me the truth.

After a glance at Finnick and Haymitch, Plutarch continues, albeit not as enthusiastically.

"In the aftermath, while we were searching for those of you in the arena we could save, we were attacked. The hovercraft was damaged. And our flight to 13 has had to be postponed. We're looking for a suitable place to land now, but we're much closer to the Capitol than I would have liked at this point. Right now, they're looking for all of us, as we are now considered fugitives of President Snow."

This time when he pauses, there is enough time for me to ask one last time.

"Where's Peeta?"

Plutarch looks at Haymitch, and they're both silent, forcing me to think the worst. Peeta is gone, and I am alone. Haymitch has broken his word to me, and he deserves to pay for it. He's about to open his mouth when another door slides open and allows in two more occupants.

The first person I see is Johanna, wearing a similar robe as Finnick with a bandage in the same spot on her arm as he has on his, but she's alive and doesn't seem to remember that she attacked me when she looks up at me. She grins, and for a second, I want to attack her, but then she steps aside, revealing the one person, the only person I really care about seeing. And he is dressed the same as they are.

"Peeta."

He looks up, and unlike me, he is relaxed and clean. But he makes his way to me just as I cross the room to him. His arms close around me as I wrap my own around him as securely as I can, and I take in his solidness and warmth slowly, wanting it to permeate my entire body. I can form only one thought in my head.

"It must be midnight," I whisper to him.

He chuckles softly, happily, and I'm so overwhelmed that when he speaks, I feel like I'm going to break down. "Actually, I think it's about six locally. You've been out for a while. It got scary there for a little bit. Imagine my surprise to see Haymitch traipsing through the jungle with a rifle in his hands. Came to get me and Johanna all by himself. Guess it was just luck that Brutus and Enobaria had been separated."

Just listening to him is a soothing balm to my anger and confusion, those things that could have quickly become wounds were I never to see him again. He can talk all he wants as long as I never have to be without him. If that ever happens, I don't think I'll survive it. I know that now.

He leans back to look at me, his eyes trained on me and promising to never leave again. "It's okay, Katniss. We're safe for now. We're together."

When he says "for now," something in me clicks, and I remember that we're standing in the control room of a stolen hovercraft that's been damaged, and I immediately turn to face everyone else.

"Where are we going?" I ask. "Where are we safe?"

Haymitch sighs, limping around to where we are until he is able to pull out chairs for me and Peeta. This limp is much more prominent than it was before, and I want to ask what happened to him, but he shakes his head. Plutarch, Finnick and Johanna all sit down too, and hot food is placed in front of me.

For the last several years, a period of time I have trouble fathoming because the last six months have been unfathomable, Plutarch Heavensbee has been part of an undercover group aiming to overthrow the Capitol. Six months earlier, upon the announcement of the Quell, a plan to break me out of the arena was devised. The victor tributes from 3, 4, 6, 7, 8 and 11 all had varying degrees of knowledge of the plan and were willing to do anything — even die — to get me out alive. Haymitch also had a part to play in this, as did Finnick and Johanna, especially after I had named Beetee, Wiress and Mags my wanted allies. Blight was supposed to be part of that alliance, but he, Mags and Wiress are all dead. They are dead because of me.

Plutarch had made sure Beetee's wire was among the weapons of the Cornucopia, and he put Beetee in charge of blowing up the arena. They were supposed to have enough time to get the remaining tributes out of the arena, and because we were all supposed to be near the lightning tree, that was supposed to be the easy part. But Brutus and Enobaria had attacked, separating us and leaving Haymitch and Plutarch with a difficult decision. It was Finnick who demanded that Peeta and Johanna be found and taken to the hovercraft. He, Beetee and I were immediately transported up into the passenger bay where Plutarch was waiting to help us with our wounds. Haymitch had braved the top two wedges of the arena to find Peeta and Johanna, suffering damage to his left leg after an encounter with Enobaria that left her unconscious from a direct blow to the head.

"You were unconscious when Johanna and I came on board," Peeta says as he sits beside me, following up Plutarch and Haymitch's explanation with one of his own. "Plutarch wanted to take the southern way to District 13, but we were fired on, and the engines won't last that long. Try flying a damaged hovercraft fast enough to get out of range so a newer model can't shoot you down."

Johanna scoffs from her place next to Finnick. "We were lucky," she says with a smirk. "Can't say the same for the rest of this trip."

It's an awful lot to digest, and even with Peeta helping, I remain stuck on this plan and me being used against my will as a piece in it, no matter how well-intentioned they were. I understand what they meant to do, and I'm grateful that they saved everyone they could despite me being right where I was supposed to be for them to find me. That these people risked their lives for me should be enough for me to accept what's been done without my knowledge. It should be enough for me to agree to whatever they want me to do regardless of how it makes me feel.

And despite the fury rising inside me, I'm still able to focus on what's most important.

"Where are we headed right now?" I ask, surprising them with my resolve.

Plutarch looks at Haymitch, and they come to a silent agreement.

"We're closest to District 5," Plutarch says. "And despite Snow's best efforts, we will actually have help on the ground once we land. It's just a question of getting to the staging area we used while you were on your Victory Tour."

"The important thing right now is to get word to 13 that we're alive," Haymitch says. "We're all risking a lot right now, but they're the ones who've risked the most, and if this trip doesn't pay off, we might as well turn ourselves in and call it a day."

His cynicism aside, Haymitch is right. And I can't believe I just thought that.

"How long?" I ask.

"We have enough fuel to get us just outside the security fence in Five," Plutarch says. "And while I wish I had better news, because this hovercraft is stolen, its supplies are limited. I have rifles and ammunition for three of us. But we were able to save a few weapons from the Cornucopia. With any luck, we'll make it to the staging area, and from there, we'll know more. Probably an hour. So why doesn't Finnick take you back to the infirmary and get you cleaned up while we assess a little more of our defenses?"

Because it's a strange request, I glance at Peeta, silently asking if it's all right with him. He nods, squeezing my hand and then leaning in to kiss me.

"It's all right. Go get cleaned up. I'll see you soon."

With that, I leave the half-finished food on the table and rise with Finnick to leave the main control room.

He leads me to another part of the hovercraft, one that looks a lot like the Remake Center in the Capitol, but most of the cabinets are bare of supplies. The one thing I notice most is the stand-up shower in the corner and a rack of gray clothes next to it.

"It's not much," he says, his voice still hoarse and his demeanor the complete opposite of what I'm used to. "But you'll feel better after. One of the good things about the life support systems is they're hard-wired around everything else. It means they can't be bypassed to feed the defense or propulsion systems. Hot shower is just what you need. I'll get the stuff ready to suture your arm. Go ahead."

Though I'm still wary of him, I trust the tone of his voice and that he'll keep his distance while I make my way to the shower stall and then begin undressing to do just that.

With everything I've been told, I have no choice but to assess the information myself. Haymitch knew this all along and chose not to tell me, making me closer to a pawn than a centerpiece of his plans. Peeta seems to have accepted all of this and moved on, and I know I should too. We're together and we're safe for now, but with our safety, I know something else has been sacrificed. What about my mother and sister? What about Gale and his family? The other members of District 12 that probably had no idea of this plot either.

The water in the shower is very hot and feels ten times better than I expect, especially since I haven't showered in three days despite being surrounded by water in the arena. It doesn't take long for the first sound of satisfaction to leave my lips, and with it, Finnick's presence is brought back to my attention with his soft but strangely amused snicker. Glancing over my shoulder at him and seeing that he's still turned away, my first reaction is to respond accordingly.

"It was the same time between showers for you, I believe, wasn't it?" I retort.

His grin fades a little, and he gives me a quick glance before averting his eyes again. "Sorry. Johanna and I had a bet on whether you would wake up before Beetee since he was the one who was electrocuted. I said she could be his assistant, and I would be yours if she won, and she did. I didn't know if you would agree to let me help you, but I was hoping. We have a lot in common, you know?"

Everything I know about him flashes through my mind, how he won his games at 14 and was so desirable that literally every citizen of the Capitol was clambering to get their hands on him by the time he was sixteen. I remember how Haymitch practically demanded that I be allies with him by giving him the gold bangle token Effie had gifted him with, and I remember how he saved Peeta's life when I couldn't. His cries for Annie in the Jabberjay wedge of the arena and Johanna telling me about Mags volunteering for her. He had truly been a surprise to me, and now he says we have a lot in common.

How?

He's waiting when I finish my shower, holding out a large towel and easily wrapping it around me without the slightest bit of embarrassment. I amaze myself by allowing him to help me, but I see something in his eyes that tells me he's no longer flirting with me. He is not teasing me or playing a game with me. His sea-green eyes tell me his heart belongs to someone else, and that person has such a hold on him that no other girl or woman can take her place, not even in death.

Finnick's hands seem to move on their own, rubbing my arms dry of the water from the shower and then doing the same to my back. While I'm clinging to the towel, he unfolds a grey robe and drapes it over my shoulders and directs me to an elevated bed where he's set out a tray of supplies for my arm.

The gauze wrapped round my arm comes off easily, revealing a messy, ugly incision where my tracker used to be. When Finnick sees it, the grimace on his face mixes with a slight grin.

"Yeah, that's definitely Johanna's handy work," he says through a chuckle. "You should've seen hers. They all had to come out on site, so we pretty much had to cut them with whatever was available to us. I want to hope I was a little cleaner getting Peeta's out."

This is the last thing he says before starting, and we both fall silent.

My eyes, for all their tiredness and weariness, cannot leave his face as he works. Never in the last few weeks, even the last few days, would I have imagined trusting this person, this past victor whom I essentially despised, this young man who could have easily been Gale or Peeta for all his youth and sincerity. Finnick looks nothing like he did the first time I met him, not even the first time I saw him while watching the tapes from past Games and the reapings from the other districts. His face hasn't changed, but _he has._

His hands are gentle and quick. I barely feel him suturing my arm, and when he's finished, he wraps a clean bandage around the threads and releases me completely.

"When we get off the hovercraft," Finnick says, "Plutarch will probably split us into two groups to get us to the staging area. You really need to listen to him. He's been doing this for a long time, and until the engines were damaged, he knew what we were going to do. He may be making this up as we go, but us getting to 13 is just as important to him as anyone. He'll do what he needs to get us there. We're all in this together, all right?"

Silently, I nod, and he does too, smiling a little smile and then turning to leave.

By the time I finish dressing in basically nothing worthy of what I'm about to do — a tank top, pants and the same robe as Finnick, Johanna and Peeta — the hovercraft is shuddering much worse than it was when I woke, and getting back to the control room isn't as easy as it should be.

Peeta and Johanna meet me in the corridor, armed and ready to go, and we bypass the control room to the passenger bay where Plutarch, Haymitch and Beetee are all now strapped in and ready for the hovercraft to land.

"Where's Finnick?" I ask.

"Flying," Johanna says very seriously and very annoyingly when we stumble into the seats and move to get strapped in.

Having to grip the sides of my seat in order to bear the shudder of the hovercraft is an interesting feeling, especially knowing that Finnick is apparently flying a machine that I didn't think anyone but someone obviously other than him could. I thought only peacekeepers or people from the Capitol knew how to fly these things.

I can't tell when we're dropping until we literally drop several hundred feet, and my stomach lifts up into my throat, making me feel nauseous even from the minimal food I ate just a little while ago. It takes several moments to level out, and with Peeta next to me, I grab his hand, thinking maybe we'll make it to the ground. Hoping really, but I've learned hope can be a dangerous thing.

Probably fifteen or twenty minutes after strapping in, we finally land with a hard, rough thud to the ground. It seems impossible that our landing will have gone unnoticed, so I'm not surprised at all when Johanna unlatches my belts and pulls me to my feet. We have minutes. This is obvious.

Finnick emerges from within the control room, dressed differently than the rest of us and now wielding his trident.

"External sensors had guards less than three kilometers away," he says hurriedly. He steps up to a panel on the wall, flipping a switch and moving to my and Peeta's side as the bay doors slide open and then a ladder lowers to the ground.

We're all on our feet, ready to go. Plutarch, Haymitch and Beetee all go first, and Peeta follows them with Johanna. Finally, it's just me and Finnick, and he looks at me, nodding, questioning.

In his hands, I realize he is carrying my bow and a quiver of arrows, and without saying anything, I take my weapon and start down the ladder to follow the others, ready for whatever happens next.

* * *

_**Two more things, or three, depending.**_

_**Yes, District 12 was still attacked, and yes, we're still going to District 13.**_

_**Yes, Annie will be in my story, and we'll explain that slowly as we meet her.**_

_**Lastly, I'm also reinventing Katniss and Finnick's friendship - and we'll see how this goes.**_

_**Let me know what you think, and I'll see you next week!**_


	2. Trust

_**Ooh, look, it's me, and I'm updating just like I said I would! Yay!**_

_**Thank you so much for the reviews and favorites! Thanks to all of you for following as well. I hope some of you will leave me some comments this time.**_

_**A few things about this chapter. I had to take MANY liberties with location, security and characterization. Especially with Plutarch and Beetee. The newer characters aside, because those are a given, Plutarch and Beetee were difficult for me. I hope I did them justice. Also, the newer characters are all mine except for one, and she's in the next chapter. Lastly, tying all of this together will be tricky for me. So we'll see how I do.**_

_**I don't own The Hunger Games. That belongs to Suzanne Collins. I defer to her. Also, even with my (beta) person, we might have missed a few things. My apologies.**_

_**Now, go on! Read and enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Trust**_

The terrain outside the hovercraft is flat, barren and bright. There is very little if any cover, and we have very limited time to decide what to do and where to go. In the distance, I see structures that look like guard towers and beyond that I see mountains. Somewhere to the northeast lies the Capitol. We cannot go that way. With the hovercraft being our main source of cover now, we use it to devise a new plan — a plan that must include ending up in District 13, a place I had long believed to no longer exist that will eventually become our new home.

"The substation is on the other side of the district," Plutarch says as he holds a holo in his hand with a layout of the land illuminated above it. "It's well-protected, and they'll have more supplies for us to carry with us to 13. And from there, we can make our way to District 10."

At first, most of us nod, because we have accepted him as our temporary leader, but Finnick argues with him.

"District 10 is more than a thousand kilometers away," he says. "And we have to go through 11 to get to 12 and then 13. 11 has to heaviest security of any of the districts. We should go to 4. It's closer, and the defenses aren't as deep. We're more likely to get to 7, 9 and 6. They're safer and less guarded than the districts in the south."

Plutarch doesn't seem to like Finnick saying this, sighing heavily. "I understand your need to go to 4, Finnick," he says. "And under different circumstances, we could do it, but the heavy security is guarding the better supplies. The longer we walk, the more time passes after the Purge. If they're still sweeping the Villages, and we're close, they'll capture us. I'm sorry, but we can't do that right now. We have to get Katniss to 13."

"There aren't enough supplies here to get us to 10," Finnick counters. "At best, they'll have enough to get us a third of the way. That gets us to 4. 10 is too far, Plutarch. You didn't have me studying the map to disagree with me now."

Plutarch doesn't back down, challenging Finnick as he says, "And you don't have any other reason to lead us that way, do you?"

The sea-green eyes I have only known to be flirtatious and boyish change immediately, flashing with fury, and I'm reminded of the other Finnick — not the charming, wild rogue I met before the tribute parade, but the killer who so willingly eliminated his treats that he was quicker than even me.

Calm but firm, he replies, "This is the safest way. And this isn't just about Annie. Yes, I want to get to her, because I'm certain she'll be there. But don't question my motives now. This is my task, remember? Keeping us safe. Listen to me."

The looks they give each other gives me an impression of a team working together, but the way they're arguing tells me that Finnick's priorities are shifting away from Plutarch's even if it might not be wrong. Johanna steps up to Finnick's side, facing Plutarch with her chin tipped up toward him.

"If we get to 4, we can get enough supplies to make it to 7. From 7, we'll have cover to make it to 9 and then 6," she says, a little less enthusiastically but with enough conviction that Plutarch begins to give in. "We all know you want to get Katniss to 13. But it's not just about that anymore. We can't make it to 10 with supplies from here. There won't be enough. That's why you put Finnick in charge of the map. Now, if the two of you can stop arguing, we really need to get moving. The tower is sweeping the area with their infrared by now."

Finnick and Plutarch nod, agreeing, with her and with each other, and they both glance at me before doing what she says.

With Peeta and Haymitch helping Beetee, we leave the safety of the hovercraft and head due west, which should take us south of the district's boundaries.

The fence for 5 isn't nearly as high as it was in 11, but the top is still barbed to deter people from climbing over. Finnick and Plutarch lead Peeta and Haymitch with Beetee while Johanna and I take up the tail of our group, and because of the terrain, we have to move as quick as possible while also staying as close to the ground as possible. We're far enough away that I don't think any of the guards would be able to see us without sensors, but if what Johanna says is true, it won't be long before they have us located.

"How long have you been planning this again?" I ask Johanna as we trek as carefully as possible.

"This?" she replies. "About twenty minutes."

I huff. "You know what I mean. This whole thing to get me out of there. Why is Finnick learning to fly a hovercraft and studying a map of our country? Why does he know how far we are from his district?"

"I was in charge of supplies for the Cornucopia," she says. "Beetee was in charge of destroying the arena. Finnick was the only one who volunteered for two tasks. And he was the only one who could get close enough to the guard stations to even see the inside of a hovercraft. So it made sense to put him in charge of that."

I look up toward Finnick as he and Plutarch lead us. How could he have possibly gotten close to the guard stations? He's just a victor. Wasn't he watched the same as we all were? That does not make any sense.

Without me saying anything, Johanna continues.

"For a long time, we were a rebellion without a symbol. Working in the shadows. Collecting intelligence. Learning guard shifts and overturn schedules. Bribing Capitol officials. And then the 74th Games happened."

"When Peeta and I became victors," I say.

She nods, smirks and then turns her hazel green eyes to mine. "Plutarch remembered you from the private sessions with the gamemakers, and when he saw you win, his exact words were, 'She's a fighter, that one.' Finnick was in the Capitol, mentoring. I was . . . otherwise unavailable. But Plutarch saw you, and he knew we had a chore on our hands. It wasn't until his talks with President Snow led him to the conclusion he came to — that the only way we'd get you out of District 12 alive was to put you in place where there weren't any Peacekeepers. In the arena, it was just us, and Finnick and I made sure of that."

"How many were there?" I ask, unable to really react because what she's saying is too unbelievable for me to really have any reaction at all.

"Before the Quell, only a small number. It was safer to keep them in the dark, like it was safer for you. Me, Finnick, Haymitch and Plutarch were the only ones who could move around without being detained, and even then, we had to be careful. After the Quell was announced, Plutarch needed to bring in more of us in order to keep you safe. We didn't know who would get chosen, especially in the districts with smaller numbers of victors, but we were lucky. Beetee, Cecilia, Chaff and Seeder. Wiress and the Morphlings were told parts of the plan, but there was only so much they could handle. Woof said he would help. But in the first minutes, I had priorities and so did Finnick. And we lost people."

Her voice has turned sad. With no cameras around, she must feel the need to not only be honest with me but herself. Her speech in the arena of there being no one left that she loved must have been that — a speech. These victors, these other people who had been through the same things she had, they were her friends too, just as they were Haymitch's. I only knew them for a few days. She'd known them for years.

I remember something that I didn't have time to process in the moment, and my hand moves out on its own, touching her shoulder. "I'm sorry about Blight," I say, to which she scoffs and grins. "I know what you said in the arena, but I'm still sorry."

She glances at me, still grinning, and for a split second maybe, I can see her eyes shining. But then she blinks and turns her eyes to the horizon.

We walk uneventfully for nearly an hour along the fence, staying down and having to hide behind the minimal shrubbery available when Finnick whistles for us to crouch down. Soon, the infrared scans will catch us, if they haven't already. We're running out of time. But trekking this way is our only choice.

The heat of the sun forces us all to delve into the small water reserve Plutarch brought with him, and rationing it is difficult for those of us who have just spent the last few days in an arena where freshwater wasn't exactly abundant.

Slowly, we cross through the ruins of two communities outside the district fence, abandoned for far too long for anything to have survived, and there is more cover here, allowing us to rest and sit out of the sun. Because there are seven of us, our cover has to be large enough for Beetee to sit and for Plutarch to gauge our position.

"These old roads should take us west and then north to the substation," Plutarch says over the holo. "We not halfway there yet, but a few more kilometers, and these roads here will lead us out of the ruins. We need the cover, but the infrared scans will only reach so far. And they might have orders to pursue any strange occurrences outside the fence. It's very important that we don't lead them to the station."

Just like when we were in the hovercraft, most everyone agrees. This time, it's Peeta who speaks up.

"Infrared detects heat signatures though, doesn't it?" he asks.

Plutarch nods.

"And with the sun out, all these metal buildings will reflect their scans. Make it look like everything is hot. Hotter than our own body temperature."

He looks at me, and together, we look at Haymitch.

The idea settles over Johanna and Finnick, and they agree before Beetee speaks for the first time since leaving the hovercraft.

"Well, if we're taking a vote, then I say we at least attempt to scavenge the ruins for anything we can use to keep us from suffering heat stroke or dehydration. Heat signatures and infrared scans aside, eluding them won't make a difference if we drop dead from overheating."

Because they're outnumbered, Plutarch and Haymitch agree, albeit grudgingly, and we're about to put this new plan into action when a sharp ping slams into the metal of the building less than sixty feet from where we're all sitting.

Immediately, we're all on point. I draw an arrow, notch it into place and aim up high as Peeta takes his place next to me with the automatic rifle in his hands aimed in the same direction. Johanna and Finnick pull Beetee farther into the enclosure we're resting inside, and Haymitch yanks Plutarch out of the way just as another object whizzes by the edge of the opening. Because it's so bright, seeing anything is difficult, if not impossible, but I have a feeling that whoever is shooting at us knows this.

My eyes catch movement along a rooftop on the opposite side of the street, and without thinking, I aim and release my arrow. I know it hits something. Instinctively, I just know. Whether I hit a person or a cat is not yet known to me. Quickly, I notch another arrow and aim, ready to release it when the arrow I just shot slices through the air to lodge itself into the hood of an antique car rotting the middle of the street.

"Cover me," I say to Peeta, gripping my bow and the arrow ready to be shot before I quickly make my way toward my arrow. I know he shadows me easily, so I don't even look back.

The closer I get to the arrow, I see something attached to it. At first, I think it's a surrender message because it is a white cloth. But when I look at it, there is a message written on it, or rather a drawing — a drawing of my Mockingjay.

I don't have time to ask for permission, lifting my eyes toward the sky where the arrow came from and hoping I don't get shot for this.

"We have a man with us who needs medical treatment," I shout. "I can't promise none of you will get hurt. But I don't think you would be doing what you're doing if you were worried about yourselves. Help us and I promise none of your sacrifices will be in vain. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm from District 12. These people with me are my friends. And we need your help."

Slowly and from less of a distance than I was expecting, a band of people twice the size of ours all emerge from their perches. Some are behind cars a hundred feet away. Others are hiding inside buildings that have long been forgotten by time. One man, tall with a dark beard, dark hair and dark eyes, approaches me from the building in front of me — the building where I shot my first arrow. His left arm is stained with blood, but otherwise, he is dressed in casual clothes.

"We heard reports that the arena had been destroyed," he says. "Our families inside the fence all said the screens went black after the explosion. Flickerman reported none of the tributes had been rescued. Guess he lied."

He stops, and I glance back at Peeta before looking at him again.

"My name is Benedict Allensworth. If you're Katniss Everdeen, then this must be the rebellion. We were told by Maggie to keep an eye out for you. Who needs medical attention?"

Slowly, I lower my bow, and he lowers his rifle before I back up to where Peeta is standing still on edge. I nod into the enclosure, and my new friend nods to the left and then whistles loudly down the valley of buildings toward something I can't see.

"How many do you have with you?" he asks while kneeling next to Beetee as Finnick and Johanna eye him suspiciously.

"This is it," Peeta says.

"So, six victors and a Head Gamemaker," he replies. "We were expecting more."

Johanna grips her ax, and Finnick stands slowly, shielding me and Peeta from the new arrival.

Gently, he laughs. "You can all relax. If I wanted to kill you, I would have given the signal by now. We have scan blockers all throughout the area. The guards couldn't sweep this area even if they wanted to. Their sensors tell them this entire place is flooded with radiation from hundreds of years ago."

"Is it?" Finnick asks.

"Not anymore."

"Where is Magnolia?" Plutarch asks.

"The substation, of course," Benedict says. "Some things have changed since the Victory Tour. If we can get indoors, I'll explain."

Normally, this would be the part where I would say 'thanks, but no thanks,' especially with the way he alerted us to his presence. But there is something in his face and his eyes that tells me he can be trusted. I glance at Peeta, and slowly, he agrees with me. Finnick and Johanna do as well, and though Haymitch is the holdout, he eventually concedes and allows Benedict's companions to help with Beetee.

Indoors turns out to be an abandoned apartment complex of some kind, similar to the ones I've seen in the Capitol but on a much smaller scale. In some areas, the walls have been knocked completely out, and in others, bunk beds line the walls and medical supplies fill counter tops. Two women dressed similarly to Benedict help Beetee to one of the beds and immediately begin assessing him. We all know he has nerve damage from the force field, but it looks like more could be wrong with him. Hopefully, they can help him.

Their communications hub isn't too far away from there, but I still don't feel any better about leaving Beetee alone with anyone who isn't one of us. From what Benedict tells us, immediately after the arena exploded, several reports came across their hub saying that all the tributes inside had been killed from the explosion. Something else he tells us is even more disturbing than our apparent deaths.

"Several of our scouts inside the fences sent word back to us that the guards all converged on the Village," he says gravely. "We haven't been able to confirm anything, but our guess is that Snow has ordered that all Victors be exterminated. And if that's right, you six are the only ones left. Consider yourselves an endangered species."

Of the seven of us who got out alive, Plutarch is the least surprised, and since all three of District 12's victors are standing here, I'm a little less worried. But all the others like us. How is that possible? And why would it be necessary?

Finnick picks this moment to reiterate his earlier concern. "We have to get to 4. It's our best chance to get around Snow's guards, and if they're doing sweeps, we have to get to the closest district. We're wasting time just standing here."

"Excuse us for holding you up, Mr. Odair," Benedict chides. "We don't consider the killing of innocent people to be a waste of time. Those are our people too, even if they did live in better circumstances than the rest of us."

With his jaws clenched, Finnick glares at our new friend. "What I meant was, every second we stand here and talk about what's going on, it's another second he has to find us and kill us. If what you're saying is true, then we're all in danger if we stand still for too long. I knew the other Victors in 5. I knew the other victors in all of the districts. They were my friends too. If they're gone, there's nothing we can do to help them. But we can help the kids out there who one day might become like them."

"What? Winners?" Benedict scoffs.

Finnick takes a step toward him, his fists balled and his jaw set hard. Peeta stops him before he can get two steps closer.

"No," Finnick says through his clenched teeth. "Victims."

The confusion on Benedict's face is obvious, and it is only then that Finnick allows Peeta to push them apart.

"As luck would have it, we can spare just enough supplies to get you to 4. From there, unless the next station is intact, you'll be on your own. And in order to get out of this area, you'll need to change. We have uniforms for you to dress in so the guards won't stop you."

That they have peacekeeper uniforms shouldn't surprise me, and on a very basic level, it doesn't. But then I find one in my size, and Johanna finds one. I'm amazed at our luck. I just wonder if it will hold.

* * *

_**Next chapter should be up in a week. I'm really enjoying writing it, even if some bad things have happened (no spoilers, sorry!)  
**_

_**I hope you all enjoyed this and will let me know what you think!**_

_**Later!**_


	3. Maggie

_**Chapter 3, here we are. We're moving along kind of fast here, with some new revelations and a surprise for everyone who likes surprises. The information about Districts, the layout of the land and the Peacekeepers is all made up by me because well, it's not like we know those things. Creative license.**_

_**Also, the surprise will have a little bit of an explanation, but it will be in the next chapter. I hope you like it.**_

_**I don't own The Hunger Games. That belongs to Suzanne Collins. I defer to her. Also, even with my (beta) person, we might have missed a few things. My apologies.**_

_**Now, go on! Read and enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Maggie**_

Johanna and I get dressed away from the boys, and we're given fresh underclothes and an extra change of clothes for when we are able to shed the uniforms. The boots are a little too big, but other than that, when I'm given a helmet, I look like a guard from every district between us and the Capitol.

"Stylish, ya think?" Johanna says as we walk back to the changing room where the rest of our group should be waiting for us.

Her unusual sense of humor aside, the fact that she can make a joke at a time like this is something I think I'm going to value about Johanna as time goes on. All victors cope in some way or another. This must be her way of coping. Making people think she doesn't care about anything or anyone. Well, except for Finnick.

Only Finnick and Peeta look like they could be guards, wearing their uniforms with little to no room for the imagination. Haymitch and Beetee could be older guards, ready to retire or whatever it is peacekeepers do when they get too old to harass the districts and make life otherwise unbearable. Plutarch, for all his bravado and necessariness, should have kept on his clothes from before. He will stand out like a sore thumb. I make a mental note to request that he not ride in the front where any competent guard will know he doesn't belong.

"Ladies," Finnick says with a smile that seems to fit our situation while still being slightly uncomfortable. Then of course, his smile fades. He shakes his head. "It's too bad."

Because I've only known him a few days, I guess I haven't become accustomed to his particular brand of a sense of humor, but it looks like we're about to have plenty of time to get used to each other.

Peeta takes his place next to me, and I'm about to mention the likelihood of our capture when Benedict emerges from within the changing room, also wearing a uniform. I'm confused at first, beginning to question his assistance, but both Plutarch and Haymitch seem aware of his involvement and have encouraged it. I understand a face other than one of ours must be the one the other guards see while leaving the area, but I've already learned of two dozen people willing to give their lives for my survival. I'm not yet ready to throw another life into the pile.

"A squad is usually made up of ten guards," Benedict says when he sees my expression. "So some of us will be joining you, at least to the substation, and possibly from there depending on what Maggie says. Whenever you're ready." He nods toward the door, and that's the end of the discussion.

The sun is still shining when we emerge from our temporary refuge, but it is already in the far west horizon, setting and giving the desert a red tint.

Peeta and I lead everyone else, following our new leader's direction to the stolen guard truck waiting for us where two others are also hovering in guards' uniforms. They step onto the truck with no words from Benedict, and slowly and in single file, we all follow. Peeta stops to help Beetee, and I notice something else.

Haymitch is still hobbling.

I wait for us to get on our transportation to mention this to him, and he replies, "Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I've had worse."

When?

Benedict's second in command is a woman, with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. She's shorter than he is but holds her head high as they go over last minute instructions for the group of people we're leaving behind. Even with her hair pulled back into a tight braid, a few strands have already begun to frame her thin face in the breeze. They're speaking in such low tones that I can't make out what they're saying, but when their conversation ends in a brief kiss, my heart sinks into my stomach.

She isn't just his second in command. The glint of a wedding band on her left ring finger tells me something else.

She is his wife.

It doesn't shock me so much as fill me with dread, at least until Finnick leans over and whispers where only I hear him.

"You and Peeta could be doing that right now."

I want to glare at him, because what right does he have to say that to me?

But instead, my eyes find Peeta's as he sits across from me, and when he smiles gently, all I can do is return his smile.

The seven of us who have come from outside this rebel-claimed territory make up too many of the numbers filling the truck. Only three others, Benedict included, will be riding with us, and while we will all have to look the part, there are some of us who will stand out. Plutarch, yes, but me and Johanna are both so small compared to the others. If our lucks hold, they won't search the back of the truck where we're sitting.

But what if they do?

Benedict alone climbs up into the front cab of the truck, behind the steering column, and once there, he calls back to the rest of us.

"There's only one tower between us and the substation, but with the hovercraft in the vicinity, they'll more than likely scan the vehicle for weapons or people that don't belong here. Stow the spear and the bow for now. The panels beneath you will block their scanners until we're out of range."

Finnick smirks and glances at me before doing as he's told, and then I follow suit.

"It's a trident," he says under his breath.

I grin in his direction, but otherwise stay silent.

Our journey takes around forty-five minutes. Because the community we're leaving is apparently flooded with radiation, the guards' sensors don't pick us up until we're well out of range of the buildings behind us.

Inside the gloves I've put on, my palms are sweating the whole time we're in motion. My heart jumps into my throat when we're stopped by the guards, and my spine goes ramrod straight when the back doors are opened. A large man is on my left, shielding me for the most part, but the guard checking us still hesitates when his face mask lands on me.

Then it's over.

He shuts the door and bangs on the side of the truck three times, giving us the all clear and sending us on our way.

The breath that leaves my lips is so involuntary that I surprise even myself by making it. Finnick does the same thing beside me, actually allowing a single laugh to escape before he takes off his helmet and tilts his head back against the side of the truck. Slowly, we all follow suit, and from there, the ride gets even more nerve-wracking, though not for the reason we're all expecting.

Eight.

That's the number of times Benedict tries to raise communications with the substation using the transponder he brought for that specific reason. But all his attempts fail.

Based on what he's said about the detail attached to the substation, that can mean only one thing.

Those of us with weapons are on point the moment we exit the truck and must trek up into the mountains toward the station. The two men who came with Benedict volunteer to stay with the truck. I wonder silently if we'll make it back if our fears are realized.

The substation is a small, dark grey building situated in the rocks with three large antennae sticking out the top and two steel doors leading inside. One side is propped open — or rather, looks to be blown off its hinges with scorch marks spreading from the curved handle.

Because Finnick, Johanna and I have the less high-tech weapons, we're shielded in the middle of the group as Benedict and Haymitch approach the doors first while Peeta, Beetee and Plutarch bring up our rear.

The smell hits me before my eyes take in the sight. Rotting corpse, gasoline, and seared human flesh give off the most pungent stench, and my eyes are watering before I can bring my hand up to my mouth. Whatever happened here, it was recent enough for the decay to be fresh.

"This isn't possible," Benedict says as he surveys the damage. "We were just up here three days ago."

As we slowly move through the cramped space, Plutarch makes an unwarranted observation. "How often were you in contact with the station before yesterday?" he asks. "Before the arena was destroyed."

"Once a week," comes the stunned reply, followed by, "No more because Maggie said it was too dangerous."

Plutarch falls silent, and we can all only ascertain one detail.

Destroying the arena and getting us out before the Capitol guards could catch us changed everything for the rebellion. The guards had been looking for slip-ups. And now all of these people are dead.

Because of me?

A soft, painful moan draws our attention toward a lone lit control panel against the wall, and Benedict raises his rifle to investigate. Through the darkness, it's difficult to tell, but another door that leads farther into the mountains appears to be locked from unauthorized entry. I wonder if the supplies are there.

"Maggie," Benedict exhales suddenly.

He moves before Haymitch can stop him, kneeling to an older woman laying against the control panel, and I move around to see her, stunned silent by what I see.

The resemblance is uncanny but impossible.

Mags.

Even Finnick is stunned.

"How?" he utters unintentionally.

"Maggie," Benedict says, ignoring us. "What happened?"

"There were too many of them," her tired, drained voice moans. "They hit too hard. We lost power. Ainsley — is she all right?"

"She is. She's safe. How long ago did this happen, Maggie?"

"Last night," she says, grasping onto his arm. "Peter was watching the Games. Waiting for a signal. Fool. Would have killed him myself if they hadn't attacked. Where's Ainsley?"

"Back at the base," Benedict says, but his voice already sounds worried. "Maggie, the supplies."

She grasps onto his arm tighter, but shakes her head instead. "They're still intact. We found a new truck, and the solar panels should work to power it."

The few phrases she's said already finally tire her out, and she takes a deep gulp of air, sinking against the control panel but still breathing.

Finnick takes this moment to step forward, handing his trident to Johanna and kneeling in front of Maggie. She first looks at him like she doesn't know who he is, or it might just be the darkness preventing her from seeing his face. Then slowly, she lifts her hand to his cheek, knitting her white eyebrows together and pursing her wrinkled lips slightly. His hand gently wraps around hers, and for a minute, maybe two, we're all quiet.

The explosion surprises us all, shaking the small building and shorting out power to the last panel, throwing the room into near complete darkness. A second blast closer to us prompts Peeta and Haymitch to shut the doors to the station and bar them with pipes to prevent entry from the outside.

"The base," Benedict says rising and moving toward the door.

He tries to unbar the doors, but Haymitch stops him.

"It's too late for that," Haymitch tells him. "You have to go forward now."

For a reason I can't identify, I'm watching them in the near darkness, the only lights coming from Peeta and Beetee's rifles as Benedict is no longer holding his. For a split second, there is something that looks like understanding in the rebel leader's eyes, and were it not for a single tear that slips down his left cheek, I would believe him when he speaks.

"Then they're on their own," he says. "We have to get out of here."

The third blast slams the entire structure, throwing us all off our feet, and with that, Peeta grabs me and pulls me toward the door. I glance back to see Finnick lifting Maggie in his arms, and Johanna is close behind. Benedict punches a numeric code into the locked doors that lead into the mountain, and we all follow, the two men left outside forgotten for the time being.

Everyone grabs something, be it a bag of food, a pack of ammunition and a rifle or a canister of water. There is enough here to get us just outside the fences of District 4, where there will be another substation of supplies. But with this station attacked, even with the supplies, the likelihood of the next one being stocked has just been greatly reduced. So we all grab more than we can carry and pack it on the open-bed truck waiting for us.

We barely have enough time to change, discarding the white guard uniforms in favor of more distinguishable clothing, before the outer doors of the station are blown open. A fifth and final blast hits the inner doors just as we're all climbing into the truck, and with one last check of the solar panels powering the truck, we pull away from the dock where it was parked. From the looks of it, the tunnel we're inside will take us into the bowels of the earth before it comes out on the other side of the mountain. It reminds me too much of the mining tunnels in 12, and before we're even fifty feet away from the dock landing, I'm feeling claustrophobic.

The guards on the other side of the steel doors choose this moment to break through the locks with their guns aimed and ready to fire.

Even with the cage around us which looks like it will mainly be used to hold a cover for us if and when the weather permits precipitation, we still have to lay down in the bed of the truck when bullets begin ricocheting off the metal rods of the cage. The first ping sends us to flatten ourselves along the long bed of the truck. The second and third hit close to my head and Beetee's, and the fourth is what brings Peeta and Haymitch to their feet as they are the only ones able-minded enough to rise and shoot back.

Their movements are quick and sure as they fire just a few precious rounds. I watch from the truck bed as Peeta hits one guard and Haymitch hits another. A third guard takes aim between their shots, and his bullet hits Peeta in the arm. The shout that escapes Peeta's lips lifts me from my hiding place, and I grab my bow and one arrow, remaining low while I notch the arrow and take my own aim. Whether I hit his head or his heart, what matters is that he is taken down.

The truck bounces and weaves, causing me to navigate my path differently than I would if I were standing still, and though I don't mean to, my plea to Benedict comes out more like a demand.

"Hold it steady!"

There is no reply, but the bouncing minimizes for a few seconds, and the weave diminishes, so much so that I have just enough time to aim and release. Despite our widening distance from the dock, I'm still able to watch my arrow slice through the air and slam into the left side of his chest, taking him down and startling the men next to him.

They stop shooting, Benedicts guns the engine to increase our distance from them, and I scurry to Peeta's side to assess the damage to his arm.

From the dock, the lights that line the tunnel disperse until it goes dark except for the headlights of the truck. I hold onto Peeta until I can again see the natural light of day coming from up ahead. Benedict doesn't slow down as we emerge from the tunnel, racing to the north along the bumpy road that winds and twists along the side of the mountain to a flatter piece of land. The sun has fallen farther down the horizon, and the red tint of the desert has faded to almost a blue-brown.

But even in the growing darkness, the landscape in the distance behind us is clear.

The smoke rising from the ruins, the fireball that erupts from a random building, the three or four guards' trucks leaving the edge of the city to return to District 5. The rebels.

They are all more than likely dead now.

No one says anything as we speed along the road toward District 4, but while I'm laying next to Peeta, thinking about his arm and my mother and Prim, I look at Finnick and then Haymitch.

We could have helped those people. And now we have caused their deaths.

Benedict drives far after nightfall, until the solar panel cells are empty, and we're nearly four hours away from where we were, on the edge of a water reserve with a power plant built on the far north corner of it. We have a little more cover here, but not a lot, not enough for us to relax.

* * *

_**So what do we think? Nice surprise? I hope so.  
**_

_**Also, who likes Benedict? He seems like a nice guy, right? And don't worry, I'm not planning on making any new bad guys for this story. Those remain the same as with in the book.**_

_**Next chapter should be next week.**_

_**Later!**_


	4. Burial

_**Here we are! Chapter 4. And we have that explanation I was talking about last chapter. I hope everybody likes, but if not, I can't say I didn't try.**_

_**Ooh, and there's another surprise at the end of this chapter that goes into next chapter, so let's see how it goes.**_

_**I don't own The Hunger Games. That belongs to Suzanne Collins. I defer to her. Also, even with my (beta) person, we might have missed a few things. My apologies.**_

_**Now, go on! Read and enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Burial**_

Our cover comes in the form of a row of trees that nearly completely obscure us from the tower at the north of the reservoir. With night also giving us the protection we need, Benedict breaks out a shelter from the bed of the truck and assigns us each a task for the night. He seems to have had a conversation with Plutarch, because the first thing he does is assign me and Finnick to First Watch while everyone else branches out to look for wood for a fire. Because it's dark, I can't see much, but it's not unlike those nights in my first Games.

And I'm on edge.

"You're shaking, you know," Finnick says to me as we sit away from everyone with our attention more on the guard tower than it should be.

I automatically pull away, not realizing that my back was against his, and he laughs softly.

"It's okay. It's different out here in the open, isn't it? No arena. No fence. No guards."

A shaky breath and uneasy gaze from me leads me to add, "More danger. More death. More threats."

"No limitations. No electric barriers. No gamemakers throwing strange mutts at you for their amusement."

Because I think he's trying to be overly cheerful, I try to play at this activity too. "Water that burns your skin. Vines that slither down and choke you. Birds that torture you with voices of people you love."

That last one comes out accidentally, and I immediately stop talking, feeling him go still and scoot away from me completely. I turn to him quickly, meaning to apologize and seeing an angry expression on his face.

"Finnick . . ."

"I knew he would get to her," he says through clenched teeth. "I mean, they already had her voice from her Games, but he knew."

I scoot closer to him, glancing back to see the others making a fire and lowering my voice. "Knew? Who knew?"

"Who do you think?" he seethes.

My eyes automatically shoot over to the group of people with us, and I find Peeta immediately. And even though he is with me, I immediately begin to worry that he will be taken away from me.

"Katniss," Finnick says in a low voice.

I turn my head around so both our faces are away from the growing flames of the fire. "Yeah?"

"Peeta isn't the only weapon Snow has to use against you, is he?"

My thoughts flicker to Prim. My mother. Gale. They're all still in danger. I know now they're not dead. Snow wouldn't kill them. He would keep them alive for my benefit so I could see them executed on live television in front of the whole country.

Unless . . .

_Unless . . ._

"Finnick," I say with more certainty in my voice than before.

He turns his head to me again but doesn't speak. He doesn't have to.

"Do you think they got away?" I ask, hope, plead. Probably most likely futilely.

A long time passes before he speaks, much more quietly than necessary. "If they did, where would they go?"

I don't have an answer for him, so I don't say anything.

Benedict calls us back to the fire, and the first thing I notice is that he's set up tracking sensors close to where Finnick and I were sitting. I wonder if he heard our conversation. I wonder if it matters.

I'm not surprised when Finnick sits next to Maggie as she lays in front of the fire, and when Peeta beckons me to his side, I do not hesitate. I know his arms will keep away the nightmares. Right now, I need that more than anything else.

My stomach chooses this moment to remind me that I haven't had anything to eat since that morning. Rather loudly.

"Hungry, Katniss?" Peeta says, the grin on his face more amused than teasing.

Before I can reply, however embarrassingly, Benedict passes around cans of food from the stores we took from the station. They're warm, so I figure that he probably had them sitting around the fire while it was being built. Peeta and I share a can of vegetable soup before getting a canteen of water between the two of us. Once I'm full, I instinctively turn into him, allowing him to hold me as I press my face to his neck.

Then softly, Maggie begins to speak, mostly to Finnick.

"She sent me pictures of you," she says. "They stopped after she had her stroke, but then they announced the Quell, and I knew. I knew you would be there. I watched 4's Reaping even though I knew it wasn't safe. We had to block the transmission for the Games so they wouldn't be able to find us, but Peter watched. He was still a fool. But I saw you. I saw you."

It is this that prompts Finnick to draw Maggie into his arms again and hold her to him. She touches his face again, much like Mags did in the arena, and he smiles the same way he did then. But the question he asks is not gentle or easy for him.

"How is this possible? I don't understand."

"I was the last one. The last girl anyway."

He shakes his head, not understanding. "The last what?"

"They called me Four, did you know that?" she says, and even from where I am, I can see a grin on her face.

"Four of what, Mags?" He stops himself for a second and amends it to say, "Maggie. Four of what?"

She exhales heavily, already tired, but with one last gulp of air, she says, "I'm a clone."

Finnick's shocked face is mirrored on all of our faces except one — Benedict's. It's a word I've only heard when referring to Capitol technology, specifically having to do with electronics and transportation. I have never heard it uttered by a living, breathing person being held in the arms of a man I now consider my friend.

Turns out Mags' name was Magnolia Beams, the victor of the 9th Hunger Games. From what Maggie says, one of the few ways the Capitol was trying to control the districts — other than to have them trembling in fear because of the Games — was to clone certain victors and put them out in the population, as spies. There had been nine altogether before the program was scrapped because the clones had begun seeking out their hosts — rebelling against their controllers and began having families. Maggie had a son who was killed in the Games, but her daughter had lived into adulthood. It's difficult to tell now, but she says she had brilliant red hair and a quip in her voice.

When she says this, an image of the woman who kissed Benedict comes instantly to mind.

"Ainsley," I say out loud, not meaning to interrupt her story but warranting her attention all the same.

She nods and shuts her eyes, sighing. "And now she's probably dead too."

I want to dispute what she says. I want to tell her there's still hope. If there's hope for my mother and Prim and Gale, then there's hope for her daughter. But I can't bring myself to speak.

She looks at Finnick and smiles, touching his face again. "I saw you," she says.

Her expression is so familiar and so foreign at the same time. Even after I look away from her and bury my face in Peeta's chest, her face refuses to fade. I doubt it ever will.

By morning, and after I've had as unrestful a sleep as ever, Maggie has died, and from the looks of it, Finnick sat up with her all night. His eyes are bloodshot, and the lines on his face are so prominent that he looks five years older than he did less than five hours earlier. And now with the sun coming up, there's no time to rest.

"I want to bury her," Finnick says so adamantly than Peeta and I immediately back him up. "It's the least we can do for her."

"We don't have time," Benedict says as he packs our bags into the truck bed. "Maggie would understand. We'll wrap her up. When they scan the area, they'll come get her."

"And what?" Finnick yells. "They'll incinerate her body? Study her? Or worse, they'll reanimate her body and figure out a way to use her against us? I don't care if she would understand. I don't understand — how you can be so inhuman. In 4, we bury our loved ones at sea, to keep the guards from taking them. How do you honor your loved ones in a rebel camp? Or do you even honor them at all?"

With that, Benedict leaves the truck and stomps over to where Finnick is still sitting with Maggie's body.

"Watch it," Benedict warns. "You have no idea what my life has been like. How can you? The last ten years of your life have probably been a breeze compared to mine. Living in the shadow of the fences around my home, under the boot of every guard who would sooner kill my family and friends no matter what infraction we incurred, be it a loaf of bread stolen or a power plant not running efficiently enough for them. And Maggie was my friend. Not yours. I'm leading this group now, because those same guards attacked more of my people and killed them, bombed them, and probably will use them against me if any of them were captured. My life might not be worth as much as yours, but my worth will be calculated by my friends and family that I will one day save. What can you say for yourself? All you've done is win once."

Gently, Finnick lays Maggie on the ground close to my feet, lifting his eyes to me, and the fury contained within their sea-green hue is enough to make me shiver. And then I'm completely floored by what I see.

Because they're standing so close together, it's easy for Finnick to grab Benedict by the collar of his jacket, which is exactly what he does. He backs the older man into the truck until his back slams into the side of it, shaking it to the ground.

"You have no idea what _my_ life has been like," Finnick says so low that it's difficult to hear him. But I do. "My life has been _anything_ but a breeze, but I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand. All you've known is your district and reapings and watching others go ahead of you to die. That's the easy part. I came out alive, and that was the part no one around me understood. Nobody except Mags. She was like my mother after I lost nearly everyone I loved. Because of guards who were ordered to kill anyone who stole or ran or screamed. Maggie had children, but so did Mags. She had me. And she had Annie. And I couldn't honor her. So whether you like it or not, whether you think we have _time_ or not, I'm burying her. The way I was taught. And now. Before we leave."

He shoves Benedict against the truck and stalks back to where Peeta and I have knelt next to Maggie. Johanna and Haymitch have taken guard around us, and before Plutarch can do anything, we've begun doing just what Finnick wants.

While Finnick and Peeta wrap Maggie's body in an extra sleeping bag, Johanna and I scour the surrounding trees for anything that looks like flowers. They're scarce, but we manage to collect two handfuls each of blue, yellow and white blooms. It isn't a difficult choice for me to kneel next to Maggie to do for her what I did for Rue a year ago. While I lay out the flowers to surround Maggie's face and shoulders, Johanna makes chains of flowers around her legs and feet until she is surrounded by flowers.

When we finish, Finnick kneels at Maggie's head, leaning over to kiss her forehead. He whispers something I don't hear, but I gather it must be something between him and Mags like I saw during 4's reaping not a week ago. I'm not surprised to see tears fall from his eyes as he looks up at me, and then he looks at Johanna, nodding.

Together, the five of us who have taken the time to do this gather up the sleeping bag around Maggie, beginning the short trek from our campsite to the edge of the reserve. We're nearly to the edge when Benedict calls out.

"Wait!"

We stop, and he slowly walks to where we're waiting. His dark eyes appraise Finnick in a way I haven't seen anyone's do in a very long time, from when I was very young, and there seems to be an understanding between them before Benedict steps around to the other side of Maggie's head to help us carry the sleeping bag into the water.

Unlike most of the water I've ever been in, this water is murky and ice cold. Immediately, my feet and then my legs and finally the lower half of my body scream at me for considering doing this even though I couldn't have known from looking that the water would be this way. Holding onto the sleeping bag is a chore, but somehow, I manage it until we're in the water up to our chests.

Momentarily, Benedict and Finnick take turns saying goodbye to Maggie. The elder man even says a soft prayer before closing up the sleeping bag and motioning to us to let go of the bundle we've floated more than fifty feet into the reserve. Haymitch and Johanna leave the water first, followed by me and Peeta before Finnick and Benedict wade out of the water last. For several minutes, almost ten, we all watch as the bundle continues into the reserve. Then slowly, as there is no air in Maggie's lungs to keep her afloat, the bundle begins to sink.

In this moment, and even though I don't really know her, I can't help but feel like if Annie were here, she would comfort Finnick for losing not one but two women who could have essentially been his mother. And Annie's not here. I look at Peeta, seeing the same expression on his face from when we stayed with the Morphling until she died. He looks at me, and slowly, I take his hand in mine. While there might not realistically be time for this, it appears more important that we make time. Over Finnick's shoulder, I look at Johanna, seeing her nod in agreement, and we take Finnick's hands together while she in turn takes Haymitch's hand. None of us got to say goodbye to Mags.

Not until now.

Benedict doesn't join us, so it's just us Victors standing at the edge of the reserve. It reminds me of the night we all joined hands on stage in front of the Capitol's citizens united.

Once the bundle is completely gone, we all step away from the edge, making our way back to the truck. It is the vibration of the ground from an aircraft overhead that snaps us back to present time.

"Peacekeepers!" Benedict yells.

We all run and jump into the truck where Beetee and Plutarch are waiting. Benedict climbs into the cab and gives the engine a kick start, shifting gears and speeding away from the reserve even though we have no cover and no way of hiding if they see us.

"They're probably just patrolling," Benedict yells through the open glass of the cab. "Roll the reflective panels from the cage down. With any luck, they'll pass over us."

Peeta and Haymitch realize what he's talking about just in time, unlatching the panels from the roof of the cage and rolling them into place. It goes almost completely dark except for a sliver of light now shining through a slit at the end of the truck bed, and Benedict stops under the cover of the trees to look up at the hovercraft as it passes around us, its fan blades beating loud and heavy.

My heart pounds with the blades of the craft, persistent and hard in my ears until I'm clinging to Peeta as we lay in the truck bed hugging the metal beneath us. I've never felt so helpless, holding my breath and clenching my teeth so hard that my body begins shaking. It must last for several minutes and wrack everyone else's nerves too. It must.

This close call ends more quickly than I'm expecting as the aircraft moves off to the east away from us, and Benedict eases the silent truck from under the trees as smoothly as he can without drawing too much attention to us.

I do not let go of the breath I've been holding in until we're careening smoothly but recklessly along the barren desert rock toward our destination. Even then, I'm tense for nearly an hour afterward. The apparent clouds have shielded us from sensors, but how long will that hold?

"It's okay," Peeta whispers to me.

I lean back to look at him, seeing the same terror in his eyes even though it's diminishing. Finally, I exhale, laying my head down and pressing my forehead to his lips.

He kisses my skin and then leans his cheek against it. "It's okay," he says again.

We're all quiet as we move on, the day getting right on around us, and I tell myself that I will not look up until we stop. Because we are no longer in the guard truck from before, we will have to either walk into District 4 or take out guards in the first tower we see to keep them from calling ahead to the next one. Personally, I'm hoping for the former.

It turns out to be neither.

Another water reserve signals another guard tower, and the terrain in the distance is that of forest and mountains. I don't know how because there doesn't seem to be an obvious path, but Benedict drives us directly into the mountain from the makeshift road we just traveled on from District 5. It is either unreachable by Capitol guards or it is an old tunnel used by guards to infiltrate District 4 through clandestine means.

The darkness mingled with bright yellow lights envelops us completely as we again drive into the bowels of the earth and drive for several minutes. Just like before, I get claustrophobic about fifty feet from the dock, but this one is not like the last one we left. There is a guard truck in the way of the dock. Benedict apparently knows his way around these tunnels, backing up to a short hollow carved out of the mountain for a truck just about this size.

Then he turns to look at all of us.

"I need a volunteer to go with me and clear the control room. Inconspicuous would be preferable, but anyone who can handle a gun will do."

"I'll go," Peeta says immediately.

He doesn't give me a chance to argue, kissing my cheek and then my forehead before climbing through the window between us and Benedict to help our driver complete his task.

Air catches in my throat as I watch him go. It's been nearly two days since he left my side. I didn't think it would be so soon before I got separated from him again.

"Katniss," Finnick says, his voice close and insistent, "come here."

His hands pull me from the window where I didn't even realize I had pulled myself to, and then his arms close around me tight until I'm crushed against his chest. That's when the gun fire starts.

My eyes clench shut just as tight as Finnick's arms around my torso, my teeth clamped together hard and my fists gripping parts of his shirt within my grasp. Behind my eyelids, all I see is Peeta being shot, over and over.

"Let's go!"

Benedict's voice startles me, and Finnick nudges me up so we can all exit the truck the way Peeta did. I am so relieved to see him standing beside the older man, albeit with a large automatic rifle in his hands, that I go to him immediately, enfolding him in my arms and crushing his chest to mine.

"Don't ever do that again," I order. "Please."

He doesn't speak but nods, and slowly, we all follow Benedict to the control room, none of us carrying visible weapons, none of us prepared for what we might see when we come out the other side of the tunnel.

The walk is slow, as we have to step over unconscious bodies and around security sensors that could identify us remotely. Before we step out the door that leads into District 4, Benedict hands us all face masks and pulls one of his own up over his mouth and nose.

"The citizens of 4 will recognize us as rebels, but to the guards, we're volunteers on our way to the docks." His eyes flick toward Finnick. "Keeps your heads down."

With little else, he opens the steel doors and leads us out.

The light isn't as jarring now as it was when we came out of the other tunnel, mostly because it is overcast and humid. Something else that catches my eyes is a column of smoke on the horizon. It can only be coming from one place.

I glance at Finnick who from behind his face mask is clearly angry and startled by what he's seeing. But he says nothing.

There are no obvious signs of the attack on the Victor's Village as we pass through town. Most of the people move out of our way without looking at our faces. That's one way that we're all lucky. There are a few who clearly recognize Finnick, either because of his hair which is sticking up in all directions or his eyes that are now searing with fury and ordering all of them to keep their mouths shut. He is looking for something in their faces, but he must not find it, because when we leave the limits of town but still must keep walking to the Village, his anger is replaced with despair.

It isn't until we're just outside the gates of the Village that Benedict feels comfortable pulling down his mask, and we all follow suit. But none of us can speak. We're all too stunned by what we see.

Most of the time, the Villages in other districts are left standing even when they're empty, but after the Games, the guards of this district saw fit not only to ensure all the houses were empty but to burn two of them to the ground.

One of them is clearly Finnick's. He shoves Benedict out of his way and runs toward the smoldering ruins at the end of the circle of twelve pristine white mansions that look almost identical to the ones in District 12.

"Annie!"

* * *

_**Really? Could it be? But wasn't Annie captured by the Capitol? Well, we'll see. Let me know what you think.  
**_

_**Also, next chapter might have to wait while my beta does her thing, but with any hope, it'll be on time. So right now, we'll say two weeks. Sorry! Hopefully, that won't be the case.**_

_**Now, I want to thank everyone who's reviewed so far, everyone who's put this in their favorites and on their alerts! I'm so flattered. Really.**_

_**Later!**_


	5. Annie

_**Okay, this is a couple weeks late, and I am so so sorry! My beta's been finishing exams, and I just really didn't feel right posting this without her help. So here it is at last!**_

_**Now, a few of you were worried about Annie. I present to you a new fate for another character, and I promise I'm going to try and do her justice. Of course, she'll be a little different from the book, because here, she was never captured or tortured. **_

_**Oh, and we have our first little Katniss and Peeta moment here! Let me know what you think. ;-)**_

_**I don't own The Hunger Games. That honor is held by Suzanne Collins, even if she did have Peeta and Johanna and Annie suffer. Also, I'm human and so is my beta. We may have missed a few things. Sorry!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Annie**_

Finnick yells until he is hoarse, moving through the burnt cinders of what used to be his house in the Victor's Village. Johanna, Peeta and I stay with him, looking through the ruble for who Finnick is sure he'll find. Beetee elects to stay at the gates while Benedict, Haymitch and Plutarch search the other house's ruins. None of us try to stop Finnick even though we all believe that what he is doing is futile.

"She has to be here," he keeps murmuring long after he has lost his ability to yell.

How is he still so sure? Everything has been burned, right to the foundation.

I glance back every now and then, watching Haymitch and Benedict scouring the other house. After a while of them searching needlessly, it's obvious they find something that is not promising.

"Wait," Finnick says softly, stumbling over rocks toward the back of the house's foundation. "Wait."

He begins a new task, grabbing stones and wood and throwing them out of his way, attempting to widen a small opening that we had previously missed. Peeta hurries to help him, and Johanna calls over to the others. We make it to the hole in time to see Finnick and Peeta uncovering a steel door and then yanking it open as Haymitch and Benedict make it to where we're standing.

The sun is shining down on us all hard, shining into the hole and illuminating a set of stairs that lead into a room — much smaller than the house smoldering around us. Finnick goes in first, but Peeta hesitates, looking inside and trying to see what we're trekking into. After a few seconds, he looks up at us.

"It's a panic room."

Though an odd name for any room in a house, be it under ground or otherwise, I do not question him, following him inside with Johanna close behind. My eyes find Haymitch and I nod for him to say on the surface. He gives Benedict and Plutarch the same nod that they stay where they are.

"Annie!" Finnick shouts, finding his voice again even though he's still hoarse. "Annie!"

Precious seconds pass as we all wait, and I'm about to lower my bow when a loud bang echoes toward us from the other side of the room. I notch an arrow and Johanna readies her axe even though I suspect we both know what could be causing this noise.

Finnick moves forward into the darkness. Tiny sounds scuffle along the floor toward him. And then tiny shaking arms fold around his neck and shoulders, so securely it would clearly take nothing less than death to remove them.

"It's okay," he whispers. "You're okay."

Slowly, he moves back out into the light, carrying precious cargo.

She is tinier than she looked on the tapes from the Reaping, her long brown hair braided and her creamy skin littered with scrapes and smudged with soot. Her eyes are darker than Finnick's, still green perhaps, but they appraise me and Johanna instantly.

"Well," Johanna says, "can't say I wasn't expecting something like this. Figured you'd find a way around the surveillance."

I glance at Peeta as he now stands behind us, but he shrugs helplessly. So I look at Finnick, not intending to sound demanding but failing.

"How did you do this?" I ask him. "How is this possible?"

He looks at Annie, pressing his cheek to her forehead and pausing for a few long moments before he answers me. "Love."

Of all the things he could say, that is not what I'm expecting. We're standing inside a panic room he must have built himself into the basement of his house in Victor's Village where such a thing isn't even supposed to be possible. What does that mean? It is literal? Am I supposed to take him seriously?

"We don't really have time to go over the details right now," Benedict yells down to us. "If we don't get out of here soon, the guards outside the gates will come back to do more sweeps. The five of you can talk over it later. Let's go."

Finnick, for once, doesn't argue, keeping Annie close as he walks passed us to the staircase and then up to the ground when Benedict and Haymitch are waiting with Plutarch. Numbly, the three of us follow silently.

I am stunned. For the first time since we landed in the desert outside District 5, something has finally gone right. I wonder if the same will be said of our supply run on the substation.

It is Haymitch who suggests we'll be better off traveling in the dark even though Benedict is against waiting for guards to come back and sweep the area. Haymitch reasons that with the two most obvious targets eliminated, it will be at least morning before that happens. He even convinces Beetee to disable all the electricity in one of the houses so it is safe for us to enter. The idea of there being surveillance inside these houses sickens me. It means Snow has been watching me this entire time.

Once the empty house is secured, the curtains are opened and bright light is allowed into every room of the house. The nine of us separate at the top of the stairs, into our own rooms so we can clean up.

I can't believe so little time has passed. Just two days ago, Peeta and I were talking in the arena, ready to leave our allies and fend for ourselves, even though the idea now seems preposterous. Haymitch is right. If I'd known ahead of time, I would have put the whole plan at risk. I would have said something different, something wrong, something dangerous. And more people would have died. And even though I hate the way it feels when I agree that he did the right thing, I have to. I'm alive. Peeta is alive. And it's possible now for us to save anyone else from suffering the way we have.

The water heater in the house isn't connected to the electrical systems, so I'm still able to take a hot bath. It's strange after all the showers in the Capitol and the bubble baths of my own house in the Victor's Village in 12. I think about my mother while I soak away the last day of soot, dirty water and smoke from my skin and hair. I wonder again if she and Prim are safe. Did Gale get them out in time? Out to where, I'm not sure yet. Maybe to 13, but that's not certain. Are they all dead now?

"I have fresh towels."

Peeta's voice startles me as I sit in the enormous tub, but I make no moves to cover myself as he eases closer and sets the bundle on the marble counter. I sit up as he kneels at the side of the tub, drawn closer to him when he leans over the side on his arms. But for several seconds, neither of us speaks.

Finally, he clears his throat, his expression somber. "Plutarch says at this rate, it might be several days or weeks before we make it to 13," he says. "He's not sure what condition the station here will be in, but he says it's not safe to try and contact them to let them know we're safe. Even with Beetee. But you're worried about your family. I wish we knew they were okay."

His voice is sad like it was on the beach, like he's admitting that he needs me to know this before something terrible happens.

But the one thing I am no longer uncertain of is him.

Gently, I lean closer, laying my damp skin over his until our faces are bare inches apart.

"I'm terrified for them — Prim, my mother, Gale. Everyone in 12. I don't know if they're alive. If they're safe. I don't know if I'll ever see them again. But I do know something now that I didn't know a week ago, and I know it now more than I ever will."

I pause, thinking of the words, forming them in my head. Turning them over and over until they're completely true and real.

"What is that?" he asks while I pause.

With the back of my fingers, I caress his cheek. With my fingertips, I ease short strands of his hair from his face. Memorize the curve of his nose and then his lips. "I will never ever leave you again," I tell him. "I believed a week ago that my sister was the only person I was certain I loved but that's not true anymore, because it's you too. I need you, Peeta. You're the one I want to learn and protect and defend. I won't let anyone hurt you, ever again."

My heart is racing, pounding in my chest until he lays his hand over mine, clasping it within his, and I know he understands. He moves certainly then, cupping my cheek in his palm and leaning in the few centimeters left, kissing me as completely as he can. Because I have only one kiss of ours to compare this one to, the moment our tongues meet and when I turn toward him, a hunger I have never known fills me with a ferocity I'm not familiar with.

My hands move on their own, to his shoulders, or more specifically to the clothes covering his shoulders, and I suddenly want him in the tub with me. I don't care that we're sitting inside a Village house where the electricity has been shut off and soon it will be so dark that none of us will be able to see unless we make a fire in the fireplace. I don't care that there is a rebellion going on or that at any moment, guards could come and take us away. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care.

And Peeta is all too willing to follow my tug.

"Ahem!"

Haymitch's utterance startles us, and I become aware of Peeta's hands on my bare back, along with his cheek pressed to my forehead.

"You two might not want to get so involved while we're here," he says, and I think Peeta and I both know what he means. "Annie has some things to tell us downstairs. Peeta, why don't you come with me?"

Though he words this as a question, neither I nor Peeta believe it to be such a thing. He rises from the tiled floor slowly, his hands slipping away as he retreats, and I'm left hanging onto the side of the tub for dear life. Haymitch nods to the towels before he guides Peeta out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I'm surprised to find myself not embarrassed that Peeta and I were caught, but frustrated that Haymitch interrupted us, and I don't know why.

After that, I finish my bath and dry off, dressing in a new set of clothes from my pack and stowing the dirty ones even though I don't know how they'll get washed if we're going to be leaving before dawn. I leave the refuge of the bathroom just as Johanna is leaving hers, and we both walk downstairs together, neither one of us speaking but both understanding one another now. A few days ago, I wanted to kill her. Now I think we could at least be friends eventually.

The living room is exactly like mine in the Village in 12, but with a few changes. Instead of pictures of coal and black marble-top furniture, there are pictures of fish and ocean landscapes and green marble-top. The curtains are a sea-green color, and the carpet is tinged with blue veins. The plants are one probably native to a tropical island. They remind me of the trees and plants from the arena. The couch and chairs have a pattern of sailing ships and anchors, making it very clear where we are and where they were specifically made for so many years ago.

The fireplace is burning, bright orange and hot, filling the room with a crackling heat. Finnick and Annie are already sitting in front of it, enfolded around each other, and Beetee is laid on the couch, his body still with his chest moving steadily up and down. Plutarch and Benedict are stationed in a corner next to the windows that overlook the rest of the village. I don't see Haymitch or Peeta.

"Katniss," Finnick calls.

I go to him without thinking, sitting in the floor next to him and Annie. Immediately, I see how almost all the worry has left his face. The lines along his forehead are gone, and he looks like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. As soon as I'm close, he looks at Annie and nods to me.

"This is her," he says.

With her head rested against the front of his shoulder, Annie extends her hand to mine, and I meet her halfway. Her clear eyes and side-swept hair make her look completely different from when I saw her last, and her grip is as strong as his.

"He's told me a lot about you already," she says, and her voice is so feminine. The smile on her face is warm, and I return it easily.

"And I'm sure he'll return the favor one day," I reply, to which she laughs softly.

"We just don't have many secrets anymore," she says.

I nod, though not certain what she means. I'm about to ask when Haymitch comes into the room towing Peeta.

"Okay," Haymitch says, immediately taking charge of the room. "It's now three in the afternoon locally, and pretty soon, it's gonna be dark. We all need a little sleep, so after Annie tells us about the guards who burned down the houses, we're gonna take shifts while we eat, and we're leaving at four a.m. That good with everybody? Good. Annie?"

Annie's clear green eyes turn glassy as she presses her ear to Finnick's chest, beginning her story softly.

Minutes after the screens all over Panem went out, so did the electricity. Annie had been in Finnick's house alone, but it wasn't long before the gunfire started from town. From the front window, she watched as guards dragged all the other victors from their houses, along with their families and proceeded to execute them on their front lawns. Not many if any people knew about Annie and Finnick sharing his house — technically, such a thing was never allowed — so when the guards searched her house and didn't find her, they burned it to the ground. That moment was when Annie left the safety of the house above her and closed herself in the panic room, having disabled the security system in the house the way Finnick had shown her — who'd had Beetee show him in the months before the Quell in the event that his name was drawn at the Reaping. Finnick's house had been burned next, because of course, the Peacekeepers believed it was empty.

"It was Finnick's message to me that prepared me," she says.

"His message?" Peeta asks.

Annie nods, and all eyes are on Finnick.

It's Johanna who informs us exactly what that means.

"His poem, you dimwits," she says, exhaling loudly, effectively rolling her eyes at us.

Peeta and I understand as soon as she says it, that Finnick had used his interview to send Annie a message, but none of us can quite figure out exactly how that saved her life. From what I remember, it was just a poem. Caesar had said it was for someone special, but recalling Finnick's words, there's nothing obvious in them that sounded like a message to anyone other than profess his love.

"Love, Katniss," Finnick says when he sees the wheels turn in my head.

"He never calls me 'love'," Annie adds. "But we needed a code word. So I suggested that, because it would sound like he could be talking to anyone. That was the idea."

_My love, you have my heart, for all eternity, and if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips._

Those had been his exact words. But what did it mean to all of that if only one word had been their code?

"Caesar wanted a poem," Finnick says, "so that's what I gave him. Love was a code we came up with so I could get a message to her without Snow knowing. He probably raked his brain over it for three days. But I knew something like this would happen, and I needed Annie to be prepared."

With this knowledge, I turn to Johanna as she sits in one of the chairs. "Did you do that too?" I ask, meaning that she tried to fool Snow the way Peeta, Finnick and I all did.

"Oh no, I was livid," she says with a shrug. "And I was a thorn in his side from the beginning. I figured he'd either kill me or torture me because of the surveillance runs I'd been doing for Plutarch. But no, that was all me."

Though I'm still a little confused, I know the only thing I can do is accept it and move on. I'll give myself a headache thinking over it the way I did before. With as deep a breath as possible, I look at Annie again.

"I'm glad you're okay," I say to her, and I mean it.

She smiles and Finnick smiles, and I'm finally able to relax a little.

* * *

_**My beta and I are literally right on top of this, the next chapter included, so it may be another couple of weeks before the next chapter is up. I'm going to try doing this two-fold by sending my beta two chapters at once or something. **_

_**I want to again thank everyone who has reviewed, followed and put this story in their favorites. It means so much to me!**_

_**Until next time!**_


	6. Guard

_**I know, I know! I haven't updated in a month. I am so sorry! I never meant for it to be this long between updates. But I've got a deal with my beta that we'll be getting these out quicker, so just bear with me for the time being.**_

_**More details about Annie in this chapter, and, I think, a really nice moment between Katniss and Finnick that will go a long way in making them really good friends in the future - maybe even something like Family. Let me know what you think!**_

_**I don't own The Hunger Games. Only Suzanne Collins can claim that. But I hope my version of this story breathes life into a few characters, literally. Also, I'm human, and I might have missed some things. Sorry!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Guard**_

Lights. Off-Switch. Vertical. East.

That was their code. And because Plutarch seems to be purposefully separating me and Peeta during Watch, Finnick and I sit up while everyone else sleeps the first few hours talking about the code.

Because District 4 supplies the Capitol with all its seafood, Finnick explains that very little is usually left over for everyone else. Before they were killed for poaching, his father and several men from town supplied all the children with enough to eat while many of the market businesses in town kept stashes in their stores for a select number of people in the district. They've been on the verge of collapse for several years now, even with a new Head Peacekeeper and new rules to ensure that food was taken to the Capitol.

The idea makes me sick to my stomach, but Finnick says because of the threat of collapse, President Snow had ordered frequent black-outs to the entire district, even the Village. And ironically enough, this was also when Snow had ordered smugglers and protestors killed, commanding Peacekeepers to do these in such a manner that these people were never heard from again.

In order to allow her escape, Finnick ensured that Annie knew when the power was off it was her opportunity to cut the surveillance systems in the house. They'd been pretending for months that they weren't involved, sneaking around and playing for the cameras the same way Peeta and I had been, but after the Reaping, Finnick had instructed Annie to go to his house where he'd built the panic room. He was so sure that she would be able to keep her wits about her that he was stunned at hearing her voice in the arena. For a split second, he'd feared the worst, just like I had.

The Off-Switch was something Beetee made for Finnick in secret, in one of the rebel bunkers in District 3 after the Quell was announced. There's only one in existence — well, there was until it was incinerated along with Finnick's house. He explains while we're supposed to be keeping guard that the electricity and security systems were separated about a month after the 74th Games, after Peeta and I won.

There had been unrest between Four and its Peacekeepers for nearly two or three years already, but having two Victors come out of the Games had apparently made the people in 4 bolder than ever. It had also made Snow nervous about the other Victors. Finnick recalls a group of electricians and technicians from Three arriving to redo all the wiring in his house so Snow could keep a closer eye on him. And it turns out that Beetee had been among the people who helped develop this new system.

So of course when Finnick had communicated with him concerning this, Beetee couldn't refuse. And in addition to the tasks Plutarch had assigned to him, Finnick had also taken a crash course in electronics and technology. All to keep Annie safe.

"The last two," he says softly, "were about teaching Annie when to go and when not to. I had to make sure she knew when it was safe and when it wasn't. We did it together a few times, which was easy since the black-outs were frequent enough for us to do it while I was here. Get vertical. Get low. Stay as far from east as possible."

"Why east?" I ask him.

"Scanners always start on the right. Go east to west. And it was easier to show her that than anything else. Before her Games, Annie was a lot more innocent than she is now. I remember her in training. I didn't meet her until her Games. I wanted to mentor her because I saw how smart she was, but Mags made me mentor the boy. He was a couple years older than Annie. She was only fifteen."

I glance back into the room then, finding Annie as she lays between Peeta and Johanna, and I'm astonished. Relieved but astonished. And relieved.

"It's okay, Katniss," Finnick says when he sees my face.

The firelight gives his face an unearthly glow that now looks utterly overwhelming, and I am reminded again of all these things he's done the last few days.

"Can I ask you how you did all of this?" I say, adding, "How you were allowed to do all of it?"

He opens his mouth just as an alarm on Plutarch's holo goes off, waking Benedict and Haymitch to do the next Watch. Finnick bows his head, speaking gently.

"I'll tell you when you're ready," he says cryptically, moving from the windows as Benedict and Haymitch replace us.

"What time is it?" Haymitch asks, his voice garbled.

"Almost two," Finnick says, putting away his trident and laying on the floor near Annie.

I find a spot near Peeta, laying my head down and shutting my eyes, ready to sleep.

"Katniss," Finnick says in the space between us where Johanna and Annie are both laying.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I knew her name," he says softly. Then he adds, explaining, "The Morphling from 6 who saved Peeta. I knew her name. I mean, I knew her too, but Peeta said he never knew her name."

He pauses, and I open my eyes, looking in his direction. "And?" I ask.

"Augustine," he answers. "Her name was Augustine Cyril. She let me call her Auggie sometimes when she was sober. You know, not out of it on drugs. She tried to stop once. During a Games when she was mentoring. She thought if she could be coherent for once, one of her kids could make it. Her boy was seventeen that year; he could've made it too. But she had these really severe withdrawal attacks. Worse than the man with her that year. I forget his name. They were lucky to have the two of them though. I know Haymitch had to go it alone for a while after the other female victor in 12 died. I never met her. But I was with Auggie that year too. I even st–" He stops mid-word, obviously about to say something he doesn't want me to hear just yet. "I helped her with the attack she had that night. Her boy didn't make it."

His voice is sad like when he talks about Mags, and the thoughts I had about Johanna the previous day come back with a vengeance. They both knew all the other Victors, and this loss they're feeling because these people were their friends is overwhelming to them just like me worrying about my sister and mother and Gale is overwhelming me.

"I'm sorry, Finnick," I say because it's the only thing I can think to say.

"Me too," he replies, his voice distant. "Get some sleep."

This is the last thing we say before I shut my eyes to do just that. I make a mental note to tell Peeta in the morning.

I have a strange dream that night, not a nightmare, but it leaves me feeling uncomfortable when I wake. I'm sitting in a prep chair waiting for someone to come and put on my make-up for an interview with Caesar, thinking it will be Cinna. But instead it is Maggie who comes and pins my hair up, telling me I am just pretty enough to draw people's attention to me. Then the Morphling from 6 is doing my make-up, swirling her brush over my cheeks, my shoulders, my hands. When I look down, I am completely painted in black, white and gray swirls. No, feathers. Only my face looks normal, glittering in the light as I walk barefoot to the stage. I don't feel naked even though I know I am. The feathers protect me. They give me coverage. They give me confidence. I can fly with them.

A hand nudging my shoulder jerks me awake, and I look up to see Benedict there with his finger pressed firmly to his lips. He points to the bodies surrounding me and then the fireplace that is now glowing embers. Finally, he jabs his thumb toward the back of the house and backs away, his rifle held firmly in his other hand.

While I'm not that great with hand signals, I lift up a little, discovering myself sandwiched between Finnick's back and Peeta's chest. I look back at the nearly dark fireplace and rise as slowly and quietly as I can. Already wearing shoes, I wiggle out of my sleeping spot, amazed that I don't wake anyone, and when I am free, I follow Benedict to the back door where he is now waiting with my bow and arrows and a bundle of rope.

"I saw you shoot yesterday," he says quietly. "And I've only seen one other person shoot like that. So you're going to come with me, and we're going to bar the front gates so the guards will have a harder time getting into the Village. And your friend Haymitch said you're the best shooter here."

This is all he says before we exit the house and make our way down the drive to where the gates are currently standing open the way they were when the guards departed after killing the other victors. I am overwhelmed with chills the entire time we walk, imagining the victors and their families being awakened in the middle of the night. Dragged out the front doors of their houses. Killed like they were wild dogs. Carried away and disposed of like they had never existed.

"This is the only way in or out," Benedict says as we reach the gate. "We'll have to scale the barriers to get out so they won't get any indication that we left through them. Haymitch already said he and Peeta could haul Beetee over the concrete."

"So we're putting a trap on the gate?" I ask, simplifying his plans so I can more easily do what he's wanting.

"Essentially," he agrees.

We work quietly for nearly half an hour, stringing the rope from one side of the gate to the other until it's taut and ready to be attached to an anchor so it will snap back and hit anyone if it's cut. This is where my bow will come in, as we tie one end of the rope to an arrow and Benedict instructs me to aim for the bottom of the fountain at the center of the Village — almost fifty feet away.

The aim and distance are a little difficult, but Benedict's confidence that I can do it helps me make the shot. The arrow he gave me makes the hole with a loud clang, and we scurry out of the way in case any guards could be nearby. When nothing happens, we leave quickly to get back to the house before any of the others are awake.

I hear it before Benedict does, stopping and gripping my bow before I peer into the dark trees that surround the Village. These trees are different from the ones back home, tall and ominous and thinned out like they've been harvested. The sky is still dark, but it's less than an hour before dawn. We have to leave soon. But I still hear it. Footsteps.

"What is it?" Benedict asks.

I shake my head and then turn a little toward the sound. It's not like the hum of the force field in the arena, but without crickets or even birds, every time a booted foot tramples leaves, twigs, pine needles, I hear it loud and clear.

Benedict grips his gun, and we wait until we hear it again.

As soon as I do, I nod in that direction, tipping my bow in the right spot and allowing him to use the minimal light to our advantage. It only takes one shot.

A grunt follows, and I run forward, only about thirty paces before I stumble over a body and fall to the ground. But then hands grab my ankle and pull me back toward whoever I just tripped over. The scream from my throat gives away that I'm a girl, but not my identity.

"Stupid girl," a low, masculine voice hisses. "Townspeople aren't supposed to be up here. Looks like you're going to the stockades."

I try to kick him away, but he grabs my other ankle, immobilizing me. His heavy body crushes on top of mine, and his hot, putrid breath hits my face as he continues to threaten me.

"Or maybe I'll just have my way with you right here," he says.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Benedict warns, now behind the man and aiming the barrel of his rifle at the man's head.

My attacker goes still, his arms out to his sides.

"You're going to get up away from her, and I'm not going to shoot you. You fight me, and you die. Got it?"

He nods and then moves to get up. Benedict grabs his collar before he can retaliate, yanking him to his feet, and I follow slowly, moving forward in the darkness to feel for the man's gun and any other weapons he might have on him. As I do this, he laughs.

"Little to the left, sweetheart," he says snidely.

I grab the gun from his hip and find a whip in the other, bringing my knee up and connecting my knee with his crotch. He groans and his knees buckle, but Benedict keeps him on his feet.

"You don't get to call me that," I hiss, spitting in his face.

Together, Benedict and I pull our prisoner back to the house everyone else is occupying, hoping we haven't been missed and failing when Peeta greets us at the back door. He pulls me into his arms and squeezes me against him as tight as ever.

"I woke up and you were gone," he whispers. "Where did you go?"

"It's okay," I say to him. "We were just making sure we had a way to get out of here. And now we have some leverage."

He doesn't respond, but we move into the living room together where everyone else is getting ready to leave.

After Benedict explains to everyone what we've done to the front gates and ties up our prisoner, we all the house through the back door to make our way toward the exit point. I give the gun I retrieved to Finnick since Peeta still has the one he used the day before, and we all walk in silence as Plutarch and Haymitch move to the front of the group with Beetee between them. It's a long walk back to town and then the guard station where we left the truck, but it's still dark and we just might make in time.

The sky slowly brightens as we walk the distance between the village and town, illuminating more than just the trees.

"You have a cut on your temple," Finnick says idly.

I shrug, and he looks away.

Our trek takes us through the vacant square where whipping posts and the stockades are placed at equal distance from one another down the middle up to the platform where the Reapings take place. Benedict guides us back up the road to the guard station with our prisoner stumbling beside him. Although I'm expecting guards everywhere, Benedict explains there are minimal troops out until at least dawn, which is still awhile away.

I begin to worry about whether the guard station will have been discovered by now, because it seems impossible that it couldn't have, and when we approach it, the doors are shut like a new presence has taken up residence. The only choice we have is to go in, but Benedict decides to do it the same way he did before. This time, Finnick goes in with him while Peeta and Haymitch guard our prisoner.

"What if he already knows where we are?" I ask as we sit and wait for Benedict and Finnick to come back for us. "What if — "

"Don't think about that right now, okay?" Peeta says to me, and I glance at Johanna as she stands between the prisoner and Annie as a protector before I look at him and nod.

It doesn't take Benedict and Finnick long, but when they come back, Benedict has a cut on his cheek and Finnick is cradling his left arm.

"Let's go," he says, signaling that it's safe.

We all file in, Haymitch and Peeta first as I step back to help Plutarch with Beetee, and we're passing through the doors when Beetee whispers to me softly but urgently.

"That guard will have a tracker in him just like the rest of us did," he tells me, bowing his head and allowing me to decide what to do.

"Wait!" I call up to Haymitch and Peeta.

They both stop, and I let go of Beetee for a second before stepping up in front of the guard.

He's seen our faces now, so letting him go isn't an option. But something else is.

I look at Haymitch and extend my hand to him. "Give me your knife," I say.

He glances at Peeta and then Plutarch before complying, passing it over slowly and nodding to Peeta for the man's arms to be exposed to me. Together, they tear his sleeves up his arms.

"Where is it?" I demand.

I feel all up and then down his arms, feeling nothing, and he smirks.

"It's not in my arms, sweetheart."

I glare up at him, about ready to punch him when Finnick steps up to my side, the gun I gave him ready to be fired.

"She's trying to do it the easy way," he tells the man, whom I now realize is probably ten years older than Finnick. "We can do it the hard way if you want — start shooting body parts if you like."

For a split second, the smirk doesn't dissipate, and Finnick does more than threaten his target, taking the gun and aiming at the man's left foot, firing without thinking.

The man yells and then groans, doubling over and trying to cradle his foot.

"And now?" Finnick asks.

"My right hip," the man shouts, seething and clenching his teeth.

Finnick smirks himself and nods, looking at me and then stepping back.

Once that's done and there's a makeshift bandage stanching the blood flow, we again bar the doors to the outside and follow Benedict out into the tunnel where the truck is waiting for us. He takes a detour to the left, and after punching a code into the keypad, he opens a panel in the wall of the cave, revealing more supplies.

My relief is plain as I follow him inside to help gather up more bags for us to take. I can't believe they're still intact.

As in Five, we all grab as much as and maybe more than we can carry, loading up the truck and securing our prisoner to the cage around the truck bed before we all pile in to pull out of the hiding space in the wall.

I'm just beginning to think we'll make it out of here unscathed when a new round of gunfire explodes from outside the station. A heavy explosion shakes the mountain rock above us, and huge rocks come loose to fall from the ceiling. A few pierce the panels above us, falling on Plutarch's leg and Johanna's shoulder. Benedict speeds away from the dock, and we all tuck in from the opening of the flaps showing us that more explosions hit the mountain above us. It's clear that whoever knows we're here is trying to cave us in.

Peeta covers my head as more chunks of rock fall in the truck bed and the front cab, cracking the glass and nearly closing us in. One of the tires is damaged but still moves as we now careen toward the opening that is on the other side of the mountain. I can't tell if these are successive land mines or if we're actually being followed by a hovercraft, but it's close.

It's very close.

The glass windshield in front of Benedict is completely shattered, and he has to push it out away from him to keep it from pinning him inside the cab. The widely dispersed lights are our only guide until the orange light of dawn shines up ahead. But I can't relax as I hug Peeta so close to me that I can feel his heart pounding too.

We emerge from the tunnel and immediately have to find cover. The trees are tall here but not as widely dispersed, so finding a place to hide is easy. I can't here the blades of a hovercraft, only the faint hint of the ground shaking from heavy explosions over the top of the mountain. The tunnel is smoking with dust flying, and something tells me it has collapsed in on itself. Because it is surrounded by mountains, there might not be a way back into 4 other than flying in after this.

Benedict waits until he is certain we're not being followed by anything to leave the safety of the trees and get back on the road away from 4 and 5, to District 7, which very well may be half a day to 24 hours away from where we are right now.

* * *

_**Like I said, and I hope this works, my beta and I will try to get through two chapters this next time and hopefully much quicker than before. I may be able to post the next chapter within a week or sooner. We'll just have to see.  
**_

_**Also, I'm going to try a different approach with Katniss, Finnick, Peeta and Annie. Johanna too. All these characters were put through the wringer in the original material, and while I still love Mockingjay as a whole, there are parts I would change. So we'll see how this goes.**_

_**Until next time. **_

_**Later!**_


	7. Cover

_**It's only been a week, and I'm updating again! Yay! And believe me, it's good thing. More info on that at the bottom.**_

_**In this chapter here, we have a tense moment between two characters that I think will lend itself to a later development in the story, but right now, a lot is up in the air. We'll just have see how it plays out.**_

_**I also tried to give Katniss and Annie a little bit of interaction. I hope it works.**_

_**I don't own The Hunger Games. That honor belongs to Suzanne Collins, although if we're being honest, there are some characters I don't think she gave a chance. That's where my story comes in. And I'm human, so I might have missed some things.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Cover**_

Once we're on our way out of the woods and the landscape becomes flat again, we settle into an uneasy silence. Plutarch climbs into the front cab to talk to Benedict, and Haymitch moves our prisoner into a corner away from everyone else without asking if he's comfortable. I wonder if such a thing is possible at this point. I know we'll eventually have to get rid of his uniform, but for now, we blindfold him and gag him. The less he sees and the less I have to listen to him, the better.

The road is bumpy and winding, taking us northeast around the edge of District 5, and at one point, Benedict says we'll have to stop and let the solar panels charge if they're not damaged from the cave-in. He and Plutarch whisper between themselves while we're driving, but I don't care what they're saying. Hopefully, they're talking about how to get us to safety. Every now and then, my eyes find the prisoner, and his head is tipped toward me. I hold onto Peeta tighter with every passing minute, laying my head over his chest and eventually falling asleep.

The next time I open my eyes, we've stopped, but I'm still sitting in the truck. The flaps and panels are gone, allowing in sunlight and a warm breeze. I look around, seeing Peeta sitting on the edge of the truck away from me, and then I see everyone else setting up a campsite with the supplies we took from 4.

"Peeta," I say.

He turns and sees me awake, moving to my side and wrapping his arms around me.

"Where are we?" I ask softly.

"Less than halfway there," he says. "Benedict drove until the solar panels were drained. He says it'll be morning before we can move again, because they sat unused last night. But he set up the tracking sensors around everything. We'll know if anyone gets too close, and we're far enough into the wilderness that no one should see us. We're safe for now."

I hold onto him tighter, allowing myself to smile. "And there's a reason why I'm still laying in the truck? And not in a tent out of the sun?"

He leans in closer until his face is close enough to mine that his breath mingles with mine. "Well, Haymitch didn't like that guard being anywhere close to you, so they took him out of the truck first and tied him up. Johanna and Finnick are watching him right now. I think Annie wanted to help make Beetee more comfortable, so she's busying herself with that. She's different from how I expected her to be, and Finnick is too, so maybe people in 4 are just like that. And I wasn't about to let Plutarch separate us again, so I offered to stay close to you until you woke. I saved us some food and water."

I wrap my arms around him further, grasping onto his shoulder and his arm. "Peeta," I whisper.

He nods and leans in so that his lips are aligned with mine, and he's about to kiss me when Haymitch interrupts us yet again.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he says, now stationed at the foot of the truck as he watches us. "You two should come over to the fire while our _friend_ is busy getting changed. There are some things we need to talk about."

Annoying as he may be, neither Peeta nor I ignore him, climbing out of the truck bed and following him to where Plutarch and Benedict are talking in hushed voices over the holo as it gauges several things at once.

"We're still at least half a day's drive from the edge of 7," Benedict is saying as Peeta and I get close with Haymitch. "And we need to use these supplies as sparingly as possible. No one drinks more than their water ration. No one eats more than their own food supply. If we had long range sensors, we could know how extensive the damage is, but right now, this will work."

"How extensive what damage is?" I ask as I sit down in front of the fire.

Benedict looks at me and then Haymitch, who must nod, because instead of a sarcastic remark, our fearless leader tells me what I want to know.

"The land mines that collapsed the cave out of 4 were controlled," he says. "Which means they were installed after the cave was built. And they weren't there in the scans of the mountain last year before the 74th Games. They were probably part of Snow's new intensified security for the districts. It also means the Head Peacekeeper will be in direct contact with Snow to let him know where we are. It's not safe to stay here longer than another night, if that long, but we don't have a choice. The solar panels are only ten percent charged, and it's easier to drive this distance than it is to walk it. But that means when we get to 7, we'll have a few things to decide about the truck."

"Like what?" Peeta asks.

Benedict hesitates, and I look at Plutarch, silently demanding that he elaborate.

Probably a minute passes before he does.

"The peacekeepers in 7 have adapted to the environment unlike most of their counterparts in the other districts. Because of the lumber that's taken out on a daily basis, and because the people who do the cutting live much more widely dispersed, the peacekeepers have land mines built into the ground at undetermined intervals. And that means we might not be able to drive in. Because we can't clear out the mines. There are too many, and we don't have the time. The substation for our people is on the southwest side, but it's underground and won't be easy to get to."

"So we have a chore ahead of us," I conclude.

No one says anything, but we all agree.

"We also," Plutarch says in a much more hushed tone, "need to consider that our new prisoner might be a plant. Finnick says he recognizes the man, and he might have been ordered to get caught by anyone working against the Capitol. When you brought him, it didn't occur to me until we'd already left town."

Peeta looks at me, and I look at Benedict, thinking something obvious. "So we should get rid of him," I offer.

Plutarch shakes his head. "No, he might be equipped with other means of being monitored, even if he can't be tracked, and I know of a few trial programs that were being tested among the Peacekeepers, including nano technology meant to signal the Capitol if they suffered major blood loss or even death. We bandaged his foot, and his tracker is gone. But it's safer to keep him alive for now. The closer we get to our destination, the situation might become a little clearer." He glances in the direction of our prisoner, speaking as he does. "I just wanted you to know."

Peeta and I sit around the campfire after that and eat the little food we are allowed, sharing our canteen and both unconsciously keeping an eye on the area surrounding us. The faint beep of the solar panels charging keeps it from being too quiet, helped by the winds rustling through the leaves and a few birds chirping in the trees around our camp. Because I don't want to use up too much too fast, when I think I've eaten enough, I give the can of food back to Peeta, taking one last sip of water before surrendering that to him as well.

The scuffle catches my attention from several dozen feet away, and I glance back to see Finnick and Johanna escorting the guard back to the camp. He's dressed in regular clothes now like the rest of us, his buzzed haircut so close to his scalp that his skin glistens with sweat in the sunlight. He hesitates every few steps, and Finnick shoves him on, paying no attention to the prominent limp in the guard's gait. Johanna carries the old guard uniform to the fire, tossing in the pants and jacket before she begins slashing the pads and gloves.

"These will have to be buried," she says with an annoyed tinge in her voice.

Peeta stands then. "I'll help you," he says, glancing at me and nodding toward Annie and Beetee.

I get his signal loud and clear, and while he and Johanna move off toward the far side of the camp, I pick up our food and water to store it in a tent nearby. I'm actually about to climb into the tent to find my pack when Finnick calls to me.

I glance back to see him sitting with Annie and Beetee, and he nods again for me to go to him. My eyes automatically find our prisoner who is now being guarded by Benedict and Haymitch, and after a minute, I rise to step around the fire to where they're all sitting. And when he beckons me to sit next to him, I don't hesitate.

"Found the first aid kit," he says with a large duffle bag beside him filled with an assortment of bandages, ointments and medications meant to alleviate all kinds of ailments. "I'm going to bandage your cut," he tells me, immediately cleaning it with an odorless liquid that fizzes upon making contact with my skin. It stings a little, but not too much. "And you're going to stitch up this gash on my arm."

There's no room given for an argument, and I don't offer one.

He busies himself with his task quietly, finishing with the cool liquid that has cleaned my cut and rummaging through the bag for a small bandage. Before he puts that on though, he produces a small cylindrical container with sweet-smelling ointment inside that he then proceeds to smooth over the cut.

"So it won't hurt," he says, and I nod.

I study his face as I sit in front of him, still seeing that while he's concerned over certain things, the despair is gone from his features. His sea-green eyes are clear and focused, and there's even a hint of a grin spread across his lips. He looks completely relaxed, and it makes me uncomfortable. Having Annie with him seems to have diminished any stress he might have had the day before.

"You can tell me, you know," I say to him as he puts the ointment down and unpacks the bandage for my cut.

He looks at me, his eyebrows raised in an unasked question.

"Whatever it is that you wanted to say earlier," I add, explaining. "I can handle it."

Gently, he smooths the bandage down and picks up the remnants of his cleaning supplies, while also extracting what I'll need to stitch his cut. "Now, how can you say that you can handle it when I can barely handle it myself? When for the last eight years of my life, I've barely held myself up under the weight of it. When you don't even know what _it_ is."

"I know it gave you access to the guard stations in the Capitol," I tell him, remembering what Johanna said in District 5. "And I know it allowed you to be inside a hovercraft to learn how to fly it. And I know you could've only seen maps of the country in guard stations and hovercrafts, so whatever it is, you obviously used it to your advantage. Whatever it is, I've benefitted from it, and I just want to know if it's something . . . terrible or not."

For a minute, as he's passing me bandages, ointment, thread and a needle, he doesn't say anything. Even after he pulls his shirt up and over his head to show an ugly gash on his arm, he's silent. But it tells me so much.

I mimic his earlier actions, taking the odorless liquid, labeled PEROXIDE, and clean off his arm. It fizzes a lot more than my own cut did, and a grimace replaces the blank expression on his face. He hands me to needle and thread then, and I pause.

"Won't it hurt more if I do that without deadening it or something?"

"There isn't any in the bag," he informs me. "Just do it. I've had worse, trust me."

Another tell. But I know he's not lying, so after negotiating the right angle to start with, I thread the needle and begin stitching his cut.

With every stitch, he bites his lip or knits his eyebrows together or clenches the fist opposite his injured arm. He never makes a sound. As my hands busy themselves, my eyes look over his skin, which I can now see is freckled beneath the golden glow, and for whatever reason, I'm trying to see scars that might indicate what he says is true — that he's had worse injuries than this. But there aren't any that I can discern.

Finnick somehow sees what I'm doing with my eyes while I'm in the midst of a stitch, and his comment is characteristically blunt.

"Do you really think Snow would allow me to have any visible scars, Katniss?" he says, and the edge in his voice makes my heart stutter a little.

I want to ask what he means. I want to know why Snow would do that. I want to find out why Finnick would allow it. There are so many things it could mean. But I can't bring myself to ask because Finnick's face screams at me to_ leave it alone_.

Over his shoulder, I see Annie eyeing us both with a pointed look on her face, and I can't decide if she agrees with him or thinks he should just tell me. I barely know either of them, and even if we're getting to know one another, the fact remains that what's private should usually stay that way. If Finnick tells me something that's obviously personal, it's only fair that I do the same. But what would I tell him? He probably knows most of it already.

"Finn," Annie says softly, and he glances back at her. "Tell her about Nan and Beth."

Unfamiliar names rattle through my brain as a decidedly painful expression crosses his face. His eyes turn glassy with tears that immediately slip down his cheeks.

"Four doesn't — didn't have many Victors, not like One and Two," Finnick says, clearing his throat before he continues, "but we were a tighter community than they were. We helped each other out, took care of each other when it was necessary. After I . . . won, I moved out of my old neighborhood and into the Village, and my parents and brothers went with me. I knew that if anything happened to me, they would have to go back. We all knew that. Mags tried to talk our escort into keeping me away from mentoring until I was at least 16, because that was supposed to mean I could handle it. But I had to go back the next year, after the Victory Tour. The girl who was reaped, her name was Nan. I knew her from school.

"The other Victors, Gloss and Cashmere especially didn't like me because I'd won so young, and I was still sort of scrawny, I guess. Gloss wasn't much older than me, but he was already twice my size. I was supposed to stay away from all of that, but I thought because Nan was around my age, I was supposed to be responsible for her. And Mags . . . I guess she thought I would learn fast that Nan was just on her own. I didn't learn it quick enough, and Gloss had his boy kill her when they got into the arena. I got mad naturally, went after him in the mentor's lounge. But he ended up shattering my jaw and bruising my kidneys."

He pauses and wipes his face, inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly. "Snow had the technicians at the Remake Center repair my jaw and the bruises like it never happened. Mags was pissed at me, yelled at me for nearly an hour after we got back on the train home. Neither one of the kids we took with us came back."

I stitch my last piece of thread and lean in to cut the line with my teeth like I do when I fish with Gale, and once that's done, I use the ointment he used on me to keep his cut from hurting. I clean away the rest of the blood from his arm and unpack the bandage.

"What about Beth?" I ask.

Finnick's face flushes, like he's embarrassed, but then he clenches his teeth.

"I met her when I was nineteen," he begins, "after . . . She was the daughter of a gamemaker who spent most of her time in the Training Center. She saw things she probably shouldn't have seen. Wouldn't have gotten caught if I hadn't been involved. And she wouldn't have been killed if it weren't for me. But because of me, Snow had her executed. Because of . . . something I'd done that couldn't be reversed."

These details he gives me about this girl, that she was the daughter of a gamemaker and spent time at the Training Center, tell me one unavoidable fact about her. She lived in the Capitol. And my reaction makes him angry.

"But she was one of them," I say without thinking.

This time it's his glare that makes me back away from him, and he holds my gaze for longer than I like before he looks away and presses his lips together with his teeth clenched.

"She was eighteen," he tells me, defensively. "She was innocent, Katniss. She had no idea what Snow was really doing, and when she found out, she wanted to help. Haymitch said no, because she wasn't safe doing that. I'm the one who — " He pauses, sobs. Then he clenches his teeth. "If it weren't for me, she would be alive. Maybe she would imprisoned. Maybe she would have gotten her tongue removed and be an Avox. But she would be alive. And she's dead because of me."

My movements of putting his bandage in place and the pads of my fingers touching his skin seem to snap him out of his anger, and he pulls away, grabbing his shirt and standing up to leave.

"There are things about me you don't know, Katniss," he says angrily. "And there are things I know that you don't. Think before you speak."

He turns on his heels then, leaving me there confused and a little embarrassed. From the fact that Annie thought they were important enough, I sense from the importance of Beth and Nan, that I'm not understanding the gravity of Finnick's information. And I should at least apologize for whatever I've done to insult him.

But I can't. I don't know why, but I can't.

"Don't worry about it, Katniss," Annie says, and I look at her. Her dark green eyes are red from unshed tears, and her lips are pursed together in her own emotions. "He'll be okay."

It takes me a minute to recover as I gather up the rest of the supplies used from the first aid kit, and I pack it up slowly to make sure I don't miss anything. But as I feel around inside the bag, my hand closes around what my brain tells me isn't just a tube or a cylinder.

It's a syringe.

Slowly, I pull it out of the bag to take in its shape and the name on the side, but I don't know what it says. The combination of letters form a word that I cannot pronounce.

"It's a sedative, Katniss," Annie says, like she recognizes it immediately. "It's like morphling."

First, I wonder how she knows that. But then I look around to see Haymitch and Benedict guarding the prisoner, and I put two and two together.

I rummage around inside the bag, finding four more, and I stand without saying anything to Annie, hurrying to where Plutarch is examining his holo.

"I know how to solve our prisoner problem," I say, showing him the syringe and watching the understanding form in his eyes.

He looks at me and nods, and I nod too, relieved for the first time to have a plan.

* * *

_**Okay, so my beta and I might not be doing the two-chapter thing, as we're both extremely busy and don't want to make lofty promises about the progress of the story.  
**_

_**But, we might still be able to get through each chapter a bit more quickly. So we'll see.**_

_**Thanks so much to everyone following and faving this story! You have no idea how much I love it. And thank you to everyone who's reviewing! I usually try to respond to them each individually, but I've been so busy. You guys are awesome! Keep 'em coming!**_

_**Until next time!**_


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